Lux Aeterna
by Pleiades
Summary: Light and Darkness assume contrary and unexpected forms as the Boy Who Lived embarks on a quest to resurrect his beloved parents.
1. Prologue

Eternal Light Prologue

Lux Aeterna   
By Pleiades 

  
  
  
  
  


_Prologue_   


As the deadly curse struck her full in the heart, Ginny tumbled gracefully to the icy floor and fixed him with warm, passionate eyes that held not a hint of blame or remorse. Her gaze was intense, her figure proud, tragic, and beautiful in its defeat, almost like a fallen lion. She seemed to be whispering softly, and a smile, heartfelt and composed, spread lazily across her waxen features, driving Harry forward into the chasm of pure sorrow that had opened up at his feet with her fall. Only partially aware of the hot tears drowning his vision, he staggered to her side and dropped, cradling her in tired, thin arms that shook with raw emotion. 

Her breath was coming in thin, painful rasps, and her hands felt frozen to the touch; yet she seemed not to suffer. She smiled angelically up at him, as if in reassurance, and as she opened her mouth to speak, Harry imagined that he could hear his mother's voice reaching out to him, soothing and gentle. 

"… So beautiful, Harry…" 

The dull, dreamlike sense of unreality that had sustained him over weeks of immersion in the darkest, most hellish branches of magic now seemed to collapse with these words, and with its downfall came consciousness. Cruel, unrelenting consciousness. Ginny was dying. The one person who had accepted the darkness in him, who had loved him, was passing away. 

Harry looked down at her in disbelief, saw the distant look enter her eyes, and inwardly cried out for explanation. How had it come to this? Shaking his head in a futile attempt to dispel the sorrow and incredulity, Harry watched as her gaze flitted upward, to a point just above his left shoulder. Confused, he turned around, but saw only death and devastation. Whatever she saw, however, seemed to fill her with the most heavenly joy and acceptance. 

Facing her once again, and seeing the life draining steadily from her small, delicate body, Harry felt numb. How could he have let this happen? She was so precious, so innocent. She deserved to live in the light, not to die in this dark, horrible place. He had come here to save her, not to draw her to this devastating end. 

Not daring to meet her brother's eyes, Harry wept hard, bitter tears, his grief not only for the innocent girl lying supine in his arms, but for a lifetime spent travelling from one catastrophe to the next. He wept for his parents, for Cedric Diggory, for Percy Weasley, and for all the people he had failed. 

Still more words leaked from Ginny's now colourless lips. He listened intently, not knowing if they were directed at him, but found himself unable to reply. Never before had he seen such happiness and warmth on a person's face, and it galled him. 

Harry knew it would not be long. Her speech was so silent, as to be barely distinguishable from her soft, almost non-existent breaths. 

"… Knows what he must do… Harry… your wand…" 

Astonished, Harry hesitated for a moment and then put the slender, golden instrument into her hand. She struggled to hold onto it, the effort almost as draining as her fight to hold onto life just a little longer. 

"… Lux… aeterna… luceat… eis…" 

For a moment, Harry stared blankly down at the dying figure in his arms. Then realisation hit him like a rock. He looked into her eyes, barely able to see through a haze of tears, and instantly understood the expression on her flaccid visage. It was confirmation. She had done that, for him. Speechless, he found he could do nothing but stare back into those once-dazzling orbs, and wonder that he had not truly noticed their strength and passion before. 

Harry retrieved the wand as it fell from her weak fingertips. She spoke again, but no sound emerged. Harry didn't need to hear her words for they were on his lips also. And then she fell silent, and died. 

Harry leaned forward, and kissed her tenderly on cold lips. 

"I love you too," he whispered. "I know what I must do." 

Taking one final, stern look at his enemy, Harry raised the golden wand to his head. His lips moved soundlessly, uttering words that were completely swallowed up in the ominous shadows of the disordered throne room. As he continued the incantation, he took no notice of the Dark Lord's uncertain approach, but continued speaking quiet, powerful words that only he could hear, or understand. 

Lord Voldemort raised his wand in suspicion. If this was suicide, it was taking far too long. 

Harry's next words, however, were unmistakeable for their terrible effect. Dazzling green light filled the darkness, bathing the two lovers in an ethereal, emerald death shroud, and joining them together in the immortal bonds of love. The Dark Lord smiled in triumph, almost drinking in the sight of Harry's body as it collapsed to the floor in a sickening heap. Finally, he would have it all, all that power, and it had been so easy. 

The green glow faded from the two bodies, and the Dark Lord's expression changed from one of victory of one of extreme doubt. He lowered his wand, the strain of holding it suddenly becoming too much. His shoulders sagged wearily and ached in protest, causing him to howl in despair. Somewhere, a snake hissed in agonized response, but the heir of Slytherin was helpless to react. His powers were gone, the dark spells that had once promised immortality now represented nothing more than a memory of greed and desire. His wand fell to the floor, and burst into flames. 

Then there was a heavy thud, followed by another, and another, and then many, many more... 

*** 

... But Ron hardly noticed. With his heart hammering at his ribs and fighting to get out, he hurtled across the icy cavern and pulled two frozen hands into his own. At that moment, he knew remorse. It tore at his soul with its sharp talons, struggling to release the aching torment and grief within, but to no avail. For a long, long time he sat there, gripping the palms of the two people who had mattered most to him in the world, and wishing that, somehow, he could change the past. 

He hardly noticed as Sirius grasped his shoulders in an attempt to draw him back. Moving on stiff, almost leaden feet, he allowed himself to be steered past the obstacles, the bodies, littering the floor, only vaguely aware of the large black blurs racing past, wands outstretched, frantically hastening to secure the body of the Dark Lord lest, once again, his death be no more than a mirage. 

Ron found that he did not really care; he felt empty, tainted, betrayed. How could he live now? Without her? Without him? Knowing that it was his fault they died...   


_Pleiades (August 1st, 2001)_

***   


A/N: Well, I'm back at last. Sorry for the delay, but work and Windows 98 have been plotting against me. This is, of course, the long-awaited sequel to my last series, "The Secret Keeper". Thanks to everyone who emailed me and said such nice things about that fic. I know it wasn't perfect, but I tried my best. I'll only be posting one chapter a week at best. Sorry, but it's hard to keep track of a complicated plot. There should be around twenty chapters like last time. If you haven't read, "The Secret Keeper," I would advise you to do so, but it's not essential. There now follows a summary of "The Secret Keeper," for those who just want to get into the story, or who have forgotten what happened. Heck, it was a long time ago. I'm not even sure I remember!   


Summary of, "The Secret Keeper". 

Summer after Goblet of Fire- Harry was pretty depressed over Cedric's death- The Dursleys' House was attacked by Death Eaters- Lord Voldemort perfected a new adaptation to curses to render them more powerful. It worked by concentrating the curse on a single organ of the body- Harry discovered his godmother was none other than not so old Mrs. Figg, who also just happened to be the former lover of Sirius Black- Sirius taught Harry to use the Killing Curse- Percy was killed by Pettigrew, and Remus' house was cursed, as part of Fudge's conspiracy to conceal evidence proving Sirius' innocence- Harry learned that his mother was the heir of Godric Gryffindor, that she made him the Secret Keeper for a powerful talisman, the, "Penna Potissimus," or primal feather. This represents the source of all magic (or so Dumbledore said) and must be guarded carefully. The guardianship was passed down from Gryffindor to Gryffindor throughout history. 

It was found that Sirius' innocence had been proven just months after his imprisonment, that a pardon had been signed and then concealed by Fudge so he would not face public humiliation for his mistake- Ron ran away in search of Pettigrew, for revenge, only to be captured by Draco Malfoy, who had become a Death Eater- Harry visited Godric's Hollow, where he, Sirius, and Arabella were captured by the traitor Mundungus Fletcher- Harry, Ron, Sirius and Arabella were brought to Azkaban, where Voldemort had established a base and secured the service of the Dementors- Harry taught Sirius to conjure a Patronus. 

Voldemort wanted to transfer the Fidelius Charm that made Harry the guardian of the Penna (which was magically concealed in the core of Harry's wand) to himself. To do this, he used Priori Incantatem on his and Harry's wands to bring back the spirits of his previous victims, including the Potters, and then resurrected them entirely- Voldemort poisoned Harry to make his parents cooperate in the transfer of the charm- the Potters managed to fool Voldemort, and Harry used the Killing Curse, with the extra power of the Penna, on Voldemort- Voldemort was weakened, but not killed- Harry escaped with Lord Voldemort's wand- The spell keeping the Potters alive ended, and they disappeared, leaving Harry distraught- Fletcher and Wormtail tried to cut off Harry's escape from Azkaban, but Snape killed Fletcher, and Wormtail escaped with his master's wand- Draco Malfoy helped Harry, Ron, Sirius, Arabella and Snape escape Azkaban, and return to Hogwarts, where a battle between the Dementors, Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix and Giants was taking place- Lucius Malfoy was killed in the battle and exposed as a Death Eater- Snape was able to cure Harry's poison- Sirius was proven innocent- The story ended with Harry thinking about his parents, and feeling determined to bring them back.   



	2. Many Unhappy Returns

Lux Aeterna One

Lux Aeterna   
By Pleiades 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Chapter One: Many Unhappy Returns_   


... Ron found that he did not really care; he felt empty, tainted, betrayed. How could he live now? Without her? Without him? Knowing that it was his fault they died... 

He did not look back at the bodies, did not need to. The sight of their inanimate faces, so composed in death, had become imprinted on his mind. Their hands, joined together, had been so cold to the touch, the pulse in Harry's wrist non-existent. They were really dead. 

Wearily, Ron trudged through the labyrinthine corridors of Azkaban, grateful for the darkness that made him feel alone and unwatched, despite the heavy grip on his shoulder. His spent mind blotted out the presence of Sirius, and he wept without embarrassment, all pretence at Gryffindor bravado consumed in the reflexive dismissal of his surroundings. 

The tears that rolled steadily down his hot cheeks felt strange and empty, for they held only water and not a hint of emotion. He felt the familiar itch on his skin, and his vision blurred, but there was no release. It was a novel experience, this sterile, detached crying that seemed to bear no relation to the confused thoughts swirling in his head. It felt wrong, almost egocentric, and he longed to stop, but found that he couldn't. The tears just kept coming, and he felt so very, very tired. 

It was difficult to keep moving, when all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, perhaps forever, but consideration for the tall man beside him, and his   
deep loss, stirred him onward. That was why the tears that fell down his face made him feel so guilty. His loss was nothing, _nothing_, compared to that of Harry's godfather. Yet Sirius did not cry. 

He was surprised by this, and a little unsettled, but supposed that everyone dealt with grief in their own way. Somehow, Sirius was managing to control his rampaging sorrow, and Ron did not want to destroy all his efforts by breaking down here, on the cold stone floor. 

Swallowing hard, Ron stared straight ahead, and recognized the long tunnel they were now entering. They were going home. Alone. Unable to halt the raging torrent of woe rising in his gut, Ron cried out heartfelt, senseless words, and threw himself down onto the ground, hammering his fist onto the hard,   
unyielding limestone. It didn't help. How could Sirius be so calm, after all they had lost? 

***   


_Eight Months Earlier..._

Harry's thin frame shuddered under the insubstantial covering of his school robes, and his trembling digits clutched weakly at the sleeves, pulling them taut over white, fisted hands. It was a futile measure, one borne more out of a vague decision to reach a compromise with his shaking limbs than an actual desire to warm himself up. It didn't really help. 

The three hours spent craning his neck over various texts in the Hogwarts Library had not given him the answers he sought, but Harry had to admit they had certainly provided excellent training, both for his present undertaking and for the exams that loomed ominously on the horizon. His eyes had become remarkably adept at scanning information, stopping with great accuracy at the all-important keywords he kept locked in his mind. 

So far, he had encountered _Necromancy_ twenty-two times, _resurrection _five times, _Dark Magic _thirty times, and _Voodoo_ eight times. A typical day's spoils, which were, as usual, completely useless. None of the references could tell him how to get his parents back. 

He was starting to wonder if Sirius was right. Maybe raising the dead truly was impossible. 

Yet somehow, Lord Voldemort had done it. He had resurrected Lily and James, and they had appeared wholly in the flesh. Harry had held their hands, had hugged them, had buried his face in their hair. They had been so perfect and beautiful, so proud of him. The experience had resembled some of his most treasured fantasies, and yet it had been real. 

Why couldn't _he_ do it? 

His motives for wanting them back weren't entirely selfish. Ever since he had seen their ghosts during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry   
had ceased to regard death as anything final and irreversible. The fact that his parents had been so sentient and aware at his last encounter with them tormented him. He knew they were, 'out there,' somewhere, held captive in a place he could not get to, and that they longed to return to him. 

But as the weeks went by with no progress, he just felt more and more guilty. Every day, the sense of panic increased, making it difficult to sleep, to eat, and even to laugh, without a sharp check from his conscience. And then there was the strange feeling that came over him every time he looked at the Forbidden Forest, like it was calling to him. Was it connected to his quest to save his parents? It was all so confusing, and he was so very tired. He was in hell, and he just wanted them back_._

But that seemed impossible, especially if the book he was reading now was anything to go by. "_The Dark Arts From A Muggle Perspective_," was little more than a ludicrous collection of Muggle horror stories, describing the early practise of necromancy in the most absurd and disgusting terms imaginable. 

_"... Nothing certain can be said concerning the rites or incantations which were used; they seem to have been very complex, and to have varied in almost every instance. In the Odyssey, Ulysses digs a trench, pours libations around it, and sacrifices black sheep whose blood the shades drink before speaking to him. Lucan describes at length many incantations, and speaks of warm blood poured into the veins of a corpse as if to restore it to life. Cicero relates that Vatinius, in connexion with the evocation of the dead, offered to the manes the entrails of children, and St. Gregory Nazianzen mentions that boys and virgins were sacrificed and dissected for conjuring up the dead and divining (Orat. I contra Julianum, xcii, in P. G., XXV 624)..."_

It may have been the first book he had come across that actually mentioned _how_ the dead were brought back to life, but Harry really didn't want to have to roam the countryside looking for black sheep and virgins. Nor was he inclined to pour blood into his parents's corpses, wherever they were. 

There was no way he would give up, however, no matter how crazy and obsessed his friends said he was. So far, he had only examined those books in the Hogwarts Library deemed suitable for students. He had yet to explore the Restricted Section. 

With just a hint of anger, Harry reminded himself that he wouldn't _have_ to break school rules and enter the Restricted Section if Sirius had been just a little more forthcoming with information. Harry had only asked about the spell Lord Voldemort used to bring back his parents out of curiosity and morbid fascination. At the time, he had had no intention of attempting it himself. Nevertheless, Sirius had looked terrified, and told him in no uncertain terms that resurrecting the dead was impossible. 

Sirius could be so selfish at times. 

A gust of wind rushed through the high-ceilinged room, making the sea of parchment littering Harry's desk scatter into an even more intimidating heap. He quickly slammed his fists down to contain the sheets, wincing as his neck screamed in protest, and his sleeves sprang back around his elbows. Shivering in the cold, he looked over at Madam Pince's enormous fire and wondered that such an able witch could not conjure a fire that actually exuded heat. That was the purpose of fire, after all, wasn't it? 

No wonder he was the only person who stayed here these days, Harry reflected glumly, rearranging his belongings. Hermione would drop by every couple of days and collect another stack of books, Draco Malfoy had been in twice for some reason or other, and there were a few stoic Ravenclaws willing to brave the sub-Arctic conditions for an hour's revision, but other than those few, he was the only student who stayed for any considerable length of time. And it wasn't surprising. 

The library must have been the coldest room in the castle, even colder than the outdoor tool shed the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor used for a toilet between classes. Harry even suspected that it was warmer on the northern limb of the Forbidden Forest, where he had his Care of Magical Creatures classes with Hagrid, than it was in the library. 

The cold had its uses, however. Harry found he was glad of the privacy it allowed him as he didn't like to think what Sirius, or Professor Dumbledore, would say if they discovered what he was doing in his spare time. He was in enough trouble with Sirius as it was. 

Well, if his godfather just wasn't so selfish... 

There was no time to think about his recent fight with Sirius now, however. His mind had wandered far enough for one day, and he was still no closer to getting his parents back. 

Sitting back in his now customary hunched position, Harry resumed scanning the book before him, subconsciously deciding (as he had before every book he'd read over the last month) that this would be the last useless text he looked at. It was tedious work. 

_"... The oldest mention of necromancy is the narrative of Ulysses' voyage to Hades (Odyssey, XI) and of his evocation of souls by means of the various rites indicated by Circe..."_

Gradually he lapsed into his usual routine of scanning the text and underlining keywords. Page after page, he encountered more and more names familiar from his childhood education, but whose relevance he had long forgotten. Æneas, Horace, Cicero... It all meant nothing to him. He just wanted to know what Lord Voldemort had done. It had involved a blue fire, Priori Incantatem, a spell... But none of these appeared in the books he read. As the time passed, so his pile of rejected volumes and manuscripts grew. 

Another day wasted, he thought finally, when the sting in his eyes became too painful to carry on. It was time to stop. No sooner had he made this decision than a pair of familiar voices rose up behind him. It was Ron and Hermione, arguing. 

They'd come to fetch him. Again. 

"... 'Been up here for hours. It's getting ridiculous. Fred and George keep calling him a psycho!" 

"Keep it down, Ron!" 

"It's just a joke. They said it to his face yesterday." 

"No, I mean, keep it down. We're in the library, remember?" 

"Huh? Oh, right," Ron whispered contritely. The rest of what he said was inaudible. 

"That's not nice, Ron," said Hermione. 

Harry smiled and turned stiffly to face them. "What's not nice?" he croaked. 

"Your voice is going, Harry," said Hermione. 

Ron scrunched his nose in disgust. "Would you stop fussing over him? Honestly, you're worse than Mum. _Oh, Harry dear, are you **sure** you'll have enough underwear? Is that Sirius Black feeding you **at all**? You **will** wear your thermals, when you're playing Quidditch, won't you, dear? _It makes me want to puke!" 

"Oh, be quiet!" Hermione snapped. 

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread over his face at Ron's impression of an over-protective Mrs. Weasley. "What's not funny?" he repeated patiently, after clearing his throat. 

"Having two complete bookworms for friends, that's what!" 

Hermione eyed him severely. "Ron, you know full well the O.W.L.s are in just two hundred and one days. And as a prefect I have to set a good example. Besides, Harry's not a bookworm. I think what he's doing is very noble." 

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry. "Cheer up, Ron. In just over two hundred and one days you'll at least have Hermione. Me too, if I'm finished..." 

"You will be, Harry," Hermione replied softly, squeezing his arm. 

Harry pretended not to notice as Ron shifted his feet noisily and turned away at the solicitous gesture. Harry had been very preoccupied in recent months, worrying almost constantly about his parents, but he had not failed to notice, with some dismay, the growing rift between himself and Ron. 

The truth was that Ron still blamed him for Percy's death, and while nothing had been said out straight there had been slight hints and subtle slips of the   
tongue that, while accidental, had hurt him greatly. Hermione, mistaking these little slip-ups, borne as they were from Ron's intense grief, for genuine taunts, continually jumped to Harry's defence, which only made the situation worse. 

Ron's pain was entirely understandable. For the first time in his life, he had a grievance to compare with Harry's own and yet, at least to his mind,   
Hermione continued to think Harry more deserving of her sympathy and comfort. Harry knew that this wasn't what Hermione intended. Hurting Ron was   
the last thing she wanted to do, but with Ron's twisted feelings of grief, self-pity and jealousy, he had warped her actions into something cruel and   
something they quite simply were not. 

He had been envious of the attention Harry received before, but this time that envy was fuelled by a deeper and more personal grudge. He was in love   
with Hermione. 

And for some reason, Ron viewed him as a threat. Harry considered this to be ridiculous. Girls were the last thing on his mind, so consumed was he with his quest to save his parents. He hardly even noticed Cho anymore, despite the tragic circumstances that would ordinarily have allowed him to forge a friendship based on their mutual loss. And while Hermione was certainly very pretty, he just wasn't interested. Hopefully, Ron would come round in time. 

Sighing, Harry looked around at the deserted library and laughed. "Fred and George are right. I _am_ a psycho!" 

That seemed to revive Ron's cheerfulness. "Told you! Nobody comes in here these days. It's freezing." 

Harry began stuffing books and parchment into his already overflowing bag. "Tell me about it. Come on, let's go. We can make a start on Snape's essay." 

"Oh, we've already done ours," Hermione said. "Let's go down for some supper. I didn't care for that turkey they gave us for dinner one little bit. Besides, you haven't eaten since breakfast, Harry." 

Ron laughed, but it sounded hollow, unamused. 

Harry didn't seem to notice. "All right, but only if we're quick and you promise to help me with that damn essay. I mean, how can anyone write two rolls of parchment on Flobberworm mucus? It's impossible!" 

"It's not as hard as you might think!" Hermione enthused. "I found this great book-" 

Ron glared at her. "Hermione..." 

Hermione sighed. "My brains are lost on you two. All right... Ron, while Harry's working on his essay you can make that revision timetable you were talking about earlier." 

Ron groaned so only Harry could hear him, and picked up the last of Harry's books. "Come on. Mum may have bought _you_ thermal underwear, but I'm bloody freezing." 

Chuckling, the three friends hurried out into the corridor, each shouldering the weight of some of Harry's belongings. The stone walls echoed their laughter as they went. 

*** 

In her usual dark corner of the library, Ginny waited until the three friends had exited before pulling her heaviest cloak tightly around her shoulders and gathering up her books. Rubbing her trembling hands and wrists to warm them, she glanced down at her watch in surprise. It was just after nine. Harry had spent only four hours in the library tonight! 

Bewildered at this unexpected turn of events, she hastened from her chair to see if he had left anything behind that might show what progress he had made. She was mainly looking for used parchment, something with his cute, childish handwritig on it, but sadly all that remained was a large stack of rejected, rather boring books. 

Her knees ached from the cold, and as she stood by Harry's desk, an image of him, dressed in his cosy green jumper and sprawled comfortably on the soft common room couch, just relaxing, made her turn to the exit in deep longing. Just seeing him like that, so peaceful and content, was enough to expel all the chills from her body in an instant, yet something kept her pinned to the spot. 

She felt uneasy, like there was somebody watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her nose itched as if the dust around her had suddenly been disturbed. Paralysed, her feet held her firmly to the floor, preventing her from obeying the instinctive urge to bolt. She glanced furtively around, taking in the dusty, book-lined shelves, the ancient oak desks with their brass castors, and the harsh glow of the fire. The room seemed completely deserted, even Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, though Ginny knew the library was due to close in twenty minutes. 

It was a dreadfully eerie feeling, and reminded her of the strange paranoia that had come over her just after she received the news of Percy's death, when Hermione had left her alone in her room to sleep. Later her Mum had told her that she experienced the same thing. She described it as the tread of someone walking over her grave. 

Shuddering, Ginny let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and walked swiftly to the library doors. Deciding that she didn't want to spend another second alone in that creepy place, she took a final sharp glance at the darkened room, and then hurried on her way. Following the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, the unsettling feeling gradually dissipated, leaving her tired and cold. 

*** 

As industrious little hands snatched away the greasy remnants of yet another satisfactory supper, and as the first drops of rain pattered down upon   
the youthful, leafy canopy of the Forbidden Forest, many of the Gryffindors turned gratefully to the flickering blaze of their common room fire and silently   
thanked whatever deity had spared them the icy torment of life in the Slytherin dungeons. Lazing in soft, cushioned seats, and chatting companionably over   
blotted sheets of parchment that bore some hazy resemblance to homework, they exuded a cheerful, relaxed demeanor that would make any teacher   
frown and declare an exam. 

Not that Gryffindor's newest, and self-professed most qualified, prefect would have any objection to displaying her unbounded knowledge yet again.   
Hermione Granger was currently undertaking a thorough revision of four years of beautifully prepared and sectioned notes, and was therefore, to coin an   
annoyingly dull phrase, in her element. She would delight in such an opportunity to flaunt her intellect since, with the O.W.L.s only two hundred and one days away (that's eight months to you and I), it would give her a much-needed opportunity to work in exam conditions. 

Even better, it might also distract the unwanted attentions of a certain, at the moment rather annoying, person, who was responsible for her now frequent   
lapses in concentration. Said person seemed to be having quite severe, not to mention, noisy, trouble with their throat, and insisted on clearing it every two   
seconds, in between blatant attempts to shove a large, grid-covered sheet of parchment directly in her line of view. Ron really had a lot to learn about   
subtlety. 

Deciding she would not make any headway on Switching Spells until she criticised his new revision timetable at least once, Hermione snatched her head   
up, made an unsuccessful attempt to smooth down her long, bushy hair behind one ear, and leaned over to examine Ron's work. 

It was quite impressive. Perfectly ruled black lines divided the week into intervals of forty-five minutes duration, each box colour-coded to represent a   
particular subject. The penmanship was loose, but tidy, the vowels excessively rounded like the bubbles of a simmering Polyjuice Potion. There was an   
underlying confidence in the quill strokes, however, that created a stark, and quite attractive contrast against the background of alternating pastels. It wasa beautiful design, one suspiciously similar to that of her own timetable, which lay on the ground next to Ron's orange Chudley Canons hat. 

"Hmmm… not bad. But you need more time for History of Magic. It's not a skilful subject, like Charms, so you really have to learn it off. Put it in here,   
on Wednesday, instead of Divination. I don't know why you didn't drop that…" she muttered, scanning the chart quickly. 

"Um, yeah… I was going to…" Ron replied faintly, eyes flashing nervously to the window seat, betraying his acute awareness of Harry sitting there, his   
face concealed behind the long roll of parchment he was holding up to read. 

Harry seemed to sense his regard, for he lowered his Potions essay and unflinchingly met his friend's eyes. His expression was closed, but Hermione thought she could discern a hint of amusement behind the pale, stony facade. She glanced curiously from one boy to the other, but failed to grasp the unspoken conversation the two seemed to be sharing. Not for the first time, she noted how accurate Jack Wilde had been in, "_Snap! I Swear I Didn't Know that Card was Coming!_" when he described the many valuable uses of telepathy for the modern witch or wizard. 

Finally the staring contest ended, and Ron turned away to look at Hermione. Quickly returning to the parchment in her hand, she pretended to continue her evaluation, all the while trying to figure out exactly what was going on between her two friends. They had been behaving strangely for weeks, hardly   
speaking to each other at all, and even arguing. It was bewildering, and she was a little concerned for Harry, who seemed tired and reticent, and could   
probably do without Ron's childish fits of petulance. 

"Do you like the way I colour-coded the subjects?" Ron asked brightly as the silence lengthened, "I noticed you'd done the same, and it seemed a good   
idea…" 

He's trying to impress me, Hermione thought with a strange jolt of excitement. Trying hard not to giggle, she smiled sympathetically at Harry, who had   
kept his book lowered. He appeared slightly nauseated. 

"Yes, the colour-coding helps.... You okay, Harry?" she asked, receiving a patient nod in return. "Good... Now, Ron, let me see… Monday... Ah, yes. By delaying to make this timetable, you've missed studying Defence and Charms." 

"Oh," Ron replied, in a abashed, disappointed tone of voice, "Yeah, I… I suppose I should. I'd better make a start, then." 

"Only two hundred and one days to go, after all," she said brightly, and returned to her studies, a look of supreme satisfaction on her sharp visage. Yes, she thought mildly, only two hundred and one days to go, but she would be ready. She had been unable to think of anything else all summer. The O.W.L.s represented the culmination of five years of hard work and dedication, and she crossed off the days to the big event on her calendar with all the eagerness of a child awaiting the arrival of Father Christmas. 

It wasn't like she had imagined it would be, however. She had always pictured the run up to her exams as a time of shared excitement, when she, Ron and Harry would work together over their books, predicting the topics that would be examined, working through their nerves and building each other's confidences. Instead, she felt utterly alone in her endeavours, for all Ron's newly acquired studiousness. 

She knew he was just trying to impress her, that he held not the slightest interest in preparing for the exams. Over the last month he had made several attempts to study alongside her, but they all resulted in failure. He would invariably start chatting, offering haphazard compliments on her notes, her clothing, anything he could think of. It was sweet in a way, but not the study environment she had been hoping for in this, the second most important year of her education. 

Harry was no better. Far from it, in fact. He seemed to be functioning on a work-to-rule basis, attending classes and being polite to the teachers, but doing nothing else at all to further his education. He had even been summoned to Professor McGonagall's office to account for his lax attitude. Hermione knew it wasn't his fault. He was dedicating all his time to finding a way to save his parents and, were she in his situation, she would probably be doing just the same. Still, she missed having him around, listening to him and Ron joke over their Divination homework. It would have been nice to work through her Charms notes with him. 

With a stab of regret, she realised she'd just read four pages without learning a thing. She was distracted. Looking around, she saw that Ron had started to fidget with his hat, and that Harry was rubbing his eyes in that pitiful gesture that had become so characteristic of him in recent weeks. 

"Are you nearly finished?" she asked. 

Harry looked up. "Still got another roll to go, and I'm running out of ideas. It's rubbish, but I don't really care. I could write the most inciteful essay on Flobberworm mucus ever contrived, and Snape would still fail me!" 

Hermione smiled sadly. "True... Here, you can look at mine, but don't copy it word for word." 

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, indignation plain on his face. "You didn't let _me_ read it." 

"That's because _you_ didn't need to. You had all day to write your essay, Ron, whereas Harry hasn't stopped working since morning. Besides, it's nearly eleven o'clock, and if he doesn't finish soon, he'll be up all night." 

Ron grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a sarcastic, "Poor Harry!" 

Hermione gritted her teeth at yet another display of Ron's insensitivity. How could he be like this, after all Harry had suffered? She just couldn't understand it. Best to avoid an argument, however. 

"Would you like me to ask you questions on what you've been studying?" she asked with forced kindness. 

A panicked expression assaulted Ron's face, and he quickly stuffed the book he had been reading under a nearby cushion. "Em, no thanks. I'll wait until I've finished the entire chapter." 

"Good idea... Oh, hi, Ginny!" 

"Hey," she replied in a weak voice. 

Hermione had just spotted Ginny at the base of the stairs to the dormitories, dressed in her pyjamas and clutching a blanket around her shoulders. She walked slowly across the common room floor, her eyes flitting to Harry every now and then, and she sat down on the couch next to Hermione. 

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, concerned. "You look sick." 

"Yeah... I'm just cold." 

"You think it's cold here, you should go up to the library!" said Harry. 

Hermione shivered in confirmation, and was stunned at the fearful expression on Ginny's face. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you want me to take you down to Madam Pomfrey?" 

"No, no!" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm fine, really." 

Hermione looked at her thoughtfully. She hadn't seen Ginny look that scared since the day she'd learned of Percy's death. 

"Where have you been all day, anyway?" Ron asked. 

"Oh, em, just upstairs. It's warmer there." 

Ron just nodded. "Well, I hope you're not getting sick. You wouldn't want to miss the big showdown on Friday, now, would you?" 

Ginny smiled warmly, and looked over at Harry, who was still scribbling. "No, I just love watching Harry kick Slytherin's ass!" 

Without raising his eyes from the parchment, Harry said, "There _are_ six other people on the team, you know. It's not just me. And I don't know how much ass we'll be kicking if the weather stays like _this_." 

The anxious tone of Harry's voice was not surprising. With such a slight build, he was always at risk of being thrown off his broom when he played in strong winds with poor visibility. Hermione would never forget that one fateful match in their third year when such a disaster had occured. Cedric Diggory had caught the Snitch, and poor Harry had plummeted to the muddy ground. True, the presence of over a hundred Dementors on the pitch had caused the fall, but watching Harry struggle to keep control of a wildly bucking broom up until that point had been no less nerve-wracking. 

"I'm sure you'll win, though," Ginny said, beaming. 

Harry remained silent, and returned to his essay. Hermione stifled a yawn, wishing that he would hurry up and finish it so they could all get some sleep. A typical day of school, and yet she was exhausted. How Harry could keep going with his workload was a mystery. She relaxed back into the couch and closed her eyes. It was so very comfortable... 

Harry's voice pervaded her consciousness, dragging her away from her pleasant drifting and back to reality. 

"You awake?" he asked. 

"I am now." 

Harry handed her back her essay. "Thanks, I'm finished." 

Hermione accepted the two rolls of parchment blearily, and saw that Ginny was still sitting next to her, wide awake. Ron's snores were travelling up from the floor next to the couch. 

"What time is it?" she asked groggily. 

"Half twelve," said Ginny. 

Hermione started. "Half twelve! No wonder I'm falling asleep. Come on, Ginny, let's go up." 

Ginny nodded, and rose. "What about him?" she said, kicking Ron lightly in the leg. 

Harry began to consider. "Hmmm. What's that Charm Sirius told me about? The one that makes the victim's underwear get tighter and tighter..." 

Ginny chuckled. 

Harry took out his wand and continued speaking in a tone of mock seriousness. "Damn, if only I could remember... Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to wake him. _Enervate!_" 

Ron woke up immediately and glared murderously at Harry. "Damn, I was just getting to the part where the amazing bouncing ferret bounces into the Hogwarts Express. What time's it?" 

"Half twelve." 

Ron looked incredulous. "From now on, Harry, you do your essays _before_ supper. Got it?" 

"You didn't have to wait up," said Harry. 

Ron followed him up the stairs to the dormitories on the next floor. "Hermione would beg to differ, I think." 

Those were the last words Hermione heard from the two boys before she entered the fifth year girls's dormitory. The room was almost completely black, as all the rooms of Hogwarts were at night, but it was a welcome change from the constant glow of the city's lamplights. Hands outstretched, she felt her way to her bed, and began to undress. It was awkward changing in the dark, but her anger at the words she had just heard her friend mutter kept her from caring. 

It irked her that Ron always seemed to think she was bossy. She wasn't really like that, was she? No, she decided, she was just confident about her abilities and so tended to take charge of the situation. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Nevertheless, it hurt to hear him say it in a derogatory tone, and with such vehemence. It was just another striking instance of his insensitive nature. 

Had he changed, she wondered, or had he always been so selfish? Perhaps he was still grieving for his brother. He had certainly taken the loss very hard, to the extent of running away from home with the ridiculous intention of murdering the perpetrator of the crime. That could have been it. Or perhaps his unpredictable, hurtful nature was simply a result of his awkwardness in trying to make her fancy him. Whatever the cause, she hoped he would stop, if not for her sake then for Harry's. 

The last thing Harry needed right now was to lose his best friend.   


*** 

_Pleiades (August 29th, 2001)._

_A/N: Thanks for reviewing, and to Coqui for generously agreeing to beta-read again. You rock! I think I may have scared some of you off by starting, so confusingly, at the end, but the reasons for doing that will become apparent later. I don't want to give too much away, but remember this is a Harry Potter fanfic. Just because I killed certain characters off doesn't necessarily mean they're dead! Hehe, that's all I'll say on the matter now... Please review again! I need the encouragement. :)_

Thanks to: 

**Lin-z**:: You're great! The first person to review my fic. Awww. *sniffs*   
**ryuu kaze**: Hurray! You reviewed again! Thanks so much. Yes, I like angst and hope to have lot's of it in this fic. Everyone loves angst, right? :)   
**Sailorcelestial**: Thanks :) I'm so happy you're still reading my stuff! I'll try to make this better than The Secret Keeper; you've inspired me!   
**Piper**: Great, you haven't forgotten me after all! Hehe, are they really dead? You'll just have to wait and see! Mwahaha...   
**Farseeker**: Ginny has no backbone! How can you say that? Ah, well, I suppose it's true, but she must have some bravery to have been put in Gryffindor. I'll try not to make her too big a wimp. :) I'm loving your fic, btw, and look forward to reading the latest chapter now that I've finally finished my own.   
**Jedi Cosmos**: You asked the most important question, but I won't answer it! Haha, you'll just have to wait and see.   
**Lisa**: Don't worry, I can't stand romance either :) The Harry/Ginny thing is just a subplot to the more interesting story line of Harry trying to resurrect his parents.   
**starkitty**: Yup, I know, it was hard to tell what this was going to be about from the prologue alone. I started there pretty much as a stylistic device that will make much more sense later when we get to the climax. Anyway, I hope after this chapter you can have a better idea of what it's going to be like, and I hope you enjoy it and keep reading. Thanks!   
**lee anne**: Hehe, it's you again! You're great, thanks so much for all the reviews! I know... Poor Harry, but in the Magical World nothing is final and irreversible, so maybe everything will work out for the best. (I said _maybe_!).   
**summersun**: Ah well, just be patient with me. Please! I try, honest. :P   



	3. The Visitor

Lux Aeterna Two

Lux Aeterna   
By Pleiades 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Chapter Two: The Visitor_   


Something strange was happening in Azkaban. Remus could feel it in his bones, smell it in the air, taste it on his tongue, the light, almost elusive energy that suffused the black construct, twining its searching tendrils about every rock face and crack, weakening and yet strengthening the molecules it embraced. It was an unsettling sensation, one that made his skin tingle with inexplicable heat and excitement, but it was by no means unfamiliar. 

Unbidden, the image of a quarry, pale in the moonlight, presented itself before him, confirming the awful suspicion already formulating in his mind. This was just like that night, twenty-five years ago, when the wolf had claimed him. The stillness was just as poised, the silence just as calculating. Even the shadows cast by his lighted wand were familiar for their frenetic outlines and crushing dimensions. 

_On nights like this, werewolves are born._

Quickening his pace, Remus followed the pier to dry land, all the while watching the dim surroundings for any sign of danger. The others seemed unaware of the disturbing aura, but that was hardly surprising. They hadn't been touched by the Darkness as he had. Oblivious, they stood by the waterside, talking in low, concerned tones as they awaited the return of their companions 

How long had it been? Remus inspected his watch and sighed. Over two hours, then, since Sirius had raced off down the beach on his broomstick, frantic with worry for his godson, and followed by at least a dozen of the Order's finest witches and wizards. He should have been back by now. Something must have gone wrong. 

As if sensing his anxiety, Mira McGonagall approached him, a stern expression on her normally cheerful visage. "Something isn't right here, Remus." 

Remus nodded, relieved to share his concerns. "You sense it too." 

"No, but the Thestral does. He's very unsettled, and keeps whinying and jumping about. What do you sense?" 

"It's hard to describe... It's like there's an electrical charge in the air. I feel edgy." 

Mira twisted her hair around her finger, considering. "... Like the Thestral... It might just be this place." 

"I don't think so," Remus said. "It only started about an hour ago. I think something must have happened." 

"To Harry?" Mira asked, startled. 

"Maybe... Or Voldemort. It's almost like something is moving through the air, and-" 

"Good heavens!" Mira exclaimed, looking upward. 

Like a wave crashing over them, the air was suddenly filled with the beating of innumerable wings passing overhead. There must have been thousands of birds up there, all disturbed from their cliffside perches by some sinister force. Remus could not see them, but the noise was deafening. For several minutes, he gazed up into the darkness, stealing the occasional, stunned glance at his companions, and waited. 

Finally the flock headed out to sea, and once again, all was silent. Not even the waves lapping against the rocky shore made any sound. It was an unnatural stillness, one that did nothing to calm Remus' jolted nerves. Shakily, he voiced the one thought he felt sure they were all asking, "I wonder what disturbed them." 

The others simply stared at him in dismay, unable to answer. 

Suddenly, the silence was shattered with an almighty crack. Remus jumped and dropped his wand. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel the earth trembling beneath his feet and the Darkness rushing up at him. It charged into his body at a terrifying speed, tearing his atoms apart with excruciating pain. Speedily, the ground rose up to meet him, but he hardly noticed. The agony was all that mattered. It clawed at his soul with remorseless fury, leaving him writhing and pleading for mercy. 

Through a haze, he saw the others running away against a backdrop of resounding explosions. The world was falling down around him, his ears were filled with crashing and banging. _Of course! The dynamite... in the quarry..._

The wolf was being born. 

But that had happened already, hadn't it? 

_***_

_Eight months earlier_

The realisation that he was awake came slowly and reluctantly. Shifting under the heavy blankets, Harry opened his mouth wide to release a dry, exhausted yawn before challenging his sleep-fogged brain to take stock of his surroundings. He could tell without opening his eyes that it was still dark, that he could not have been asleep very long, and that whatever had disturbed him had not prevented Ron from continuing to snore with his usual gusto. 

He had to wonder at his friend's ability to sleep through the deep, insistent hammering that could now be heard against the castle walls. The rain seemed to be pounding down in torrents, battering on the external stonework with the strength of a million tiny chisels, and not even the fierce northerly winds that came gusting down from the Highlands could contend with the deafening cacophany. Nevertheless, Ron slept on, oblivious. 

Feeling heavy and sluggish, Harry's first intention was to follow suit, and simply turn over and go back to sleep. He had the gloomy impression that he had not been sleeping very well, just hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, where dreams flicker between fantasy and nightmare. 

His instinctive caution refused to let him rest, however. Something had awakened him. Blearily, he pried open his sticky eyelids just a fraction and peered around. It was a halfhearted, almost drunken effort, which thankfully betrayed no hidden blurs, no intruders, against the black backdrop of the dormitory. 

Satisfied, Harry let his eyes droop closed and settled deeper into the soft folds of the bedcovers. He was such a light sleeper these days that even the slightest sound could rouse him. Ron's snores were usually to blame. Tonight, it was probably just the rain. 

A dazzling pulse of silver light across his shut eyelids soon dashed that assessment. Lightening, Harry realised with a jolt of excitement, and he sat up in bed, wide awake. Almost immediately the room was filled with a loud, gritty rumbling as the thunder followed its blinding counterpart. Harry leapt out of bed, grabbed his glasses, and ran to the window, ignoring the icy touch of the floorboards under his feet. 

He had always delighted in thunderstorms. It probably stemmed back to the glorious night when he had managed to convince Dudley that if he carried a wire coat hanger out into a thunderstorm he would be able to unscramble the Movie Channel on his television for free. Unfortunately, Dudley hadn't been struck by lightening, but he hadn't got the Movie Channel either, so as far as Harry was concerned, it was a triumph. Listening to the rain splashing on the window ledge, he smiled at the happy memory. 

Outside was black. It was an ebony, moonless night, and not even the raindrops on the window pane were distinguishable against the void. But there was no way Harry was leaving his vantage point. Tired as he was, thunderstorms were an exciting, rare event, and he didn't want to miss this one for the world. Wearily, he leaned against the wall and stared blindly at the window, waiting. 

He almost jumped when a hand suddenly connected with the small of his back. 

"Dean? Is that you?" a quiet voice inquired. 

"Neville!" Harry gasped in recognition, still shivering at the unexpected sensation. "I didn't hear you coming." 

"Harry?" 

"Yeah, it's me. You gave me such a fright, creeping up like that." 

"Sorry. What's going on?" 

"Thunderstorm... " 

There was a sudden intake of breath. "You'd better get back from the window, Harry. It's dangerous." 

"Nah, I wouldn't miss this for anything. Listen to that rain!" 

"Yeah... But I wouldn't stand there if I were you. My second cousin Florence got struck three times by lightening. Every Hallowe'en she'd barricade herself in the cellar. It's the fireworks, you see..." 

Harry had to laugh as a ridiculous image of himself duelling with the Dark Lord, and screaming, "Run! Lightening!" at the first Avada Kedavera popped into his head. 

"What?" Neville asked innocently. 

"Nothing... I was just-" 

They both jumped as lightening tore across the sky once more in a long, white fork, illuminating the Forbidden Forest and the small hut on its edge. For a moment, Harry thought he saw something very strange there, but when he blinked it was gone. The light vanished, and the darkness returned. 

"Oh, I can't watch!" Neville gasped. 

Harry ignored him and stared raptly at the darkened window. "Did you just see-" 

The thunder cut him off, growling long and with increasing volume. 

"Oh!" Neville cried, clapping his hands over his ears. Harry heard his feet shuffle back on the floorboards, away from the window. "I don't know _how_ they can sleep through all of this... It must be really close." 

Harry merely grunted in reply. Frowning slightly, he rubbed his dazed eyes. What was Hagrid doing out on a night like this? 

"... Mind you, Ron and Seamus would sleep through anything. Remember the time Peeves brought that suit of armour up here?" 

"What? Oh, yeah... That was hilarious." 

"Yeah... For the first time in my life I actually felt sorry for Filch, " Neville said, chuckling through a long yawn. "Hey, I'm going back to bed, Harry. I can't stand this lightening." 

"Okay. 'Night, then." 

"G'night." Neville moved away, still yawning, his footsteps barely audible above the rain. 

Harry continued to stare out of the window, struggling to recall the image that had presented itself before him for an instant. A large, bulky silhouette, almost like a tall person dressed in thick furs... Hagrid, he had immediately thought. But the other form... 

Shaking his head in frustration, Harry sat down on the narrow sill and waited for the next bolt of lightening. 

One after another, the flashes raced across the sky, filling him with ever-dwindling excitement until he was ready to return to bed. The cold wood had numbed his feet, and he yearned for the warmth of a soft mattress. Yawning, he felt his way back across the room to his four-poster and settled down beneath the covers. Ron was still snoring, reminding him of how tired he really was. Snuggling deeper into the blankets, Harry closed his eyes. 

And opened them just as fast. What was he doing? Sleeping, being lazy, when his parents needed him. This could be the night when he learned how to save them. 

In an instant, Harry was out of bed and rummaging through his chest for the Invisibility Cloak. He found it hidden beneath his Quidditch robes, its soft texture running through his fingers like sand and filling him with an all too familiar sense of adventure. Without hesitation, he wrapped it around himself and stole quietly across the dormitory. 

He knew he needed to sleep, but this would just be for a little while. It could be days before he got another chance to check the Restricted Section, especially with the first Quidditch match of the season taking place in just four days. No, he had to do it now. Just an hour, he told himself, and then straight back to bed. No-one would ever know. 

The stairs felt icy under his bare feet, but he couldn't risk going back for socks. The last thing he needed right now was an interrogation from his room-mates. 

Across the empty common room, and out the portrait hole, Harry moved quickly, not daring to look back. The hammering of the rain diminished as he ran deeper and deeper into the heart of the castle. Lit torches hanging from the walls illuminated his path. Filch and Mrs. Norris were nowhere to be seen, fortunately, and Harry continued on, growing in confidence. 

The occupants of the portraits were fast asleep. Even the Fat Lady, who was normally very observant, had failed to notice his escape. She had simply released an undignified snort and returned to her slumber, muttering something about not wanting any white chocolate, thank you very much. Lord Ashton on the first floor had been similarly engaged, creating a terrible din with his snores, but remained ignorant of the student prowling past his doorway. Only the black horse in the second floor landscape had appeared suspicious, but that had only been for a moment, and she was probably just scared of the rain. 

Harry quickly arrived at the Library. Stopping outside for a moment to rub his feet, he listened to the sounds of the castle. The rain could be heard more clearly now, bashing against the library windows in tremendous gusts, but no other sounds invaded his sense of calm. Boldly, he strode into the large room and made for the tall, book-lined shelves to his left. 

At intervals, lightening streaked past the window and bathed the room in startling white light, casting eerie shadows over the floor. Harry moved out of the glare into an aisle flanked on both sides by high shelves. These held just the innocent, open access texts he'd checked before, nothing very interesting or relevant. Without even glancing at them, Harry reached the end of the shelves, turned into the next aisle, the Restricted Section, and nearly walked straight into Draco Malfoy. 

Harry blinked in astonishment. There, standing right before him, in the centre of the aisle, was a pyjama-clad Draco Malfoy. His blonde hair practically glowed with every bolt of lightening, and in his arms he held open a large, thick book, illuminated by a wand resting on the page. His cold eyes were fixed on the text, and a frown was forming just above them, betraying his anger and acute concentration. He had no idea he was being watched. 

Standing less than two metres from the other boy, Harry didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he needed to examine the books in peace, but on the other hand, Malfoy was clearly up to something. If Harry created a disturbance now to frighten him into leaving, he might never find out what he was plotting, and Ron and Hermione would never forgive him. 

In that instant, Harry reached a decision. Stealthily, he crept up on the boy, trying hard to ignore the frantic beating of his own heart against his ribs, and moved around behind him. Looking over Malfoy's shoulder, he peered down at the half-lit text. It appeared to be a Charms book. A long, numbered list of charms, all unfamiliar to him, decorated the page, along with various diagrams of complicated-looking wand techniques. 

Harry was a little disappointed. He had been expecting to discover something incriminating, but Malfoy just seemed to be putting in some timely work for the O.W.L.s. Come to think of it, Malfoy _had_ been coming to the library a lot lately. That must be it, then, but it still didn't add up. Why would he study such an advanced book? These Charms looked far beyond the level of the O.W.L.s. 

Malfoy began flicking through the pages, determination evident in the set of his shoulders. Harry leaned back on his heels, aching from the strain of leaning over the other boy's shoulders, and waited patiently. 

Shivering under his cloak, he watched excitedly as a page was decided on. Malfoy was examining a section on another charm. Harry could just barely discern a large diagram of an intricate wand movement. Curious, he moved a little closer and raised himself onto tip-toes. There, he could see it now, some kind of Protection Charm, apparently. It looked somewhat familiar. Now that was interesting... 

Damn, he was going to sneeze. Starting to panic, Harry raised a hand to his nose, but it was too late. No sooner had he dashed to the end of the aisle than the sneeze escaped him, sounding stark in the silent library. Horrified, he looked around. 

Malfoy had snapped the book closed, and his eyes were darting around the room with all the alacrity of a trapped animal's. An expression of dawning comprehension was emerging on his pale features, and he raised his wand in suspicion. "Who's there?" he whispered. 

Harry froze. To move now might betray himself. 

"I know you're there," Malfoy continued in a low tone. He began to move slowly forward, wand outstretched like a sword, saying, "It's stupid to hide... I heard you." And then, more angrily, "Potter, you sneaking little coward, show yourself!" 

Why do they always know it's me? Harry wondered, springing nimbly aside as Malfoy lunged at him. 

Malfoy stopped in the spot where Harry had just sneezed, and smoothed down his rumpled clothing, somehow managing to look dignified even in his pyjamas. Wearily, he lowered his wand. "Think you can spy on me, do you, Potter. Think I have dark secrets you can go leak to your gang? Well let me tell you something. I know things about you that would scare you half to death, things that would show people what you really are. So just you go to your precious Dumbledore with stories about my being in the Restricted Section. I really could care less. Before you know it you'll be out on your ear, just like the little werewolf. Say nothing, and I say nothing. That's how it works. Got it?" 

Harry stared at him in disbelief. What was he talking about? 

"I'll take that as a yes," Malfoy drawled, tucking the book under his arm. "See you tomorrow, Potter." With that, he walked past Harry and exited the library, his black silk pyjamas shimmering as another bolt of lightening lit up the windows. 

Harry watched him go, a feeling of dread building up in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly felt very tired indeed, and the thought of study made his head ache. Perhaps he would return to bed now. Yes, that would be best. Malfoy had given him a lot to think about, after all. 

*** 

The next few days were among the most hectic Harry had ever known. Between training the new addition to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Keeper Ian McDonnell, classes, his own research and avoiding Draco Malfoy, he barely had a moment to think. The heavy cold he had caught only made matters worse. Quite apart from the discomfort of having to sneeze through every class he attended, it left any thought of feigning ignorance of the library incident completely ridiculous. His guilt was pasted all over his runny nose, leaving Malfoy with a smug, threatening look that was quite unsettling. 

Harry had been made Captain of the Quidditch team following a secret voting ceremony he had not been invited to. It was supposed to have been a compliment; inwardly, though, he regretted obtaining the position for the demands it made on his time. Fortunately, the new Keeper, a burly second-year student with a strong Scottish accent, had proven quite talented. McDonnell was no Oliver Wood, of course, but, given tme, Harry believed he would be a very valuable asset indeed. 

Sitting in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom on Thursday morning and looking out at the trees being practically uprooted in the strong winds, the thought of the skilled new recruit was a small comfort. The match against Slytherin was scheduled to take place the following day, and the rivalry between the two houses was worse than ever. Nothing but a resounding victory would enable him to look his friends in the eye again. 

It was a lot of pressure that Harry really could have done without. He felt exhausted, in body and mind, and had simply too many worries to catalogue. The Restricted Section had not proven as fruitful as he had expected; the books were far too complicated for him to even know what to look for. Ron had yet to congratulate him on his new position as Captain, Sirius still hadn't written to apologise for his immature behaviour, Malfoy supposedly had some pretty damning information about him, the O.W.L.s were getting closer, he was still getting that strange compulsion to go out to the Forbidden Forest, his scar had been hurting... 

It just went on and on. 

Absently, Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned, earning a disapproving glance from Hermione. He knew she was right, and that he should have been paying attention. His studies were not up to their usual standard this year. Sighing, he looked up at the old woman near the blackboard, and tried to figure out what she had been talking about. 

Once again, Dumbledore had lived up to his reputation for making eccentric choices where the teaching staff was concerned. The Defence job had gone to Mira McGonagall, the elder sister of Hogwarts's Deputy Headmistress, but they might have been completely unrelated for all their dissimilarities. A tiny, ancient lady, with vibrant red hair, the new teacher had spent most of the evening of the Great Feast prodding Snape with the end of her wand and demanding he stop hogging the pitcher of lemonade. Smiling broadly, Dumbledore had pointed out that there were five more pitchers, and that she could have one to herself if she wanted, but that did not dissuade her from her task. Harry had taken an instant liking to her. 

This lesson appeared to have something to do with vampires. Harry had some vague recollection of taking down notes about garlic recently, so it seemed to make sense. In truth, though, he had no clear memory of any of his recent classes. There were more important things to worry about now. 

Like his parents. Tomorrow night, after the match, whatever the outcome, Harry decided he would go up to the library and get some real, uninterrupted study done. There had to be something in the Restricted Section to help him; it was just a question of finding it. 

The lesson ended and Harry and Ron made their way to Divination, while Hermione attended her Arithmancy class. Harry found he was grateful for the warmth of Professor Trelawney's cosy attic classroom. He and Ron went to their small table near the back of the room and sat down. 

"I wonder what type of death she'll predict for you today," Ron said, grinning. 

"Probably decapitation, or something gruesome like that," Harry said, and sneezed. Wearily, he pulled out a pile of soggy tissues from his pocket. 

Ron grimaced at the yellow, congealed mass. "Nah, not gruesome enough... Hey, maybe your nose will fall off and you'll die of the infection. How about that?" 

"Wouldn't surprise me." 

At the front of the classroom Professor Trelawney tapped her teacup with a spoon, asking for quiet. "Yes, thank you, class," she began in her usual dreamy tones, "No doubt you have all sensed the powerful clairvoyant vibrations around us-" 

"Uh, no," Ron said, a little too loudly. 

Professor Trelawney eyed him closely over the rim of her spectacles. "Have you not, dear?" she asked mildly. "Have you not felt the hairs standing up on your arms as you moved through the corridors? The feeling of being watched? Perhaps you are not sufficiently attuned to the subtle harmonies. I myself have been quite overcome these last few days, not only in my own mystical abode, but about the castle in general. The spirits, it would seem, have chosen me for their anchor, and we must encourage their continued presence with our silence. Therefore I will ask you all to remain mute during the lesson and to listen only to me." 

Ron raised his eyes to the ceiling, muttering, "Yeah, right," under his breath. 

"Now... if you are all quite ready, I shall invoke the spirits. I will need a volunteer-" 

Harry groaned, knowing what was coming. 

"-Yes, Harry Potter. Come up here." 

Stuffing the soggy tissues up the sleeve of his robes, Harry rose and joined Professor Trelawney at the head of the classroom. Draco Malfoy sniggered at him, making rude gestures with his hand, which Harry chose to ignore. He sat down on a small leather poof in front of the teacher. 

"Now, dear," she said, "Do not fear the spirits. They join us for a reason, perhaps to warn us of future events, or to right a terrible wrong. When they enter the temple of my body, you must speak to them. Ask simple questions, who they are, what they want... I shall be in complete control, and when they have said all that is necessary, they will leave. Do you understand?" 

"Um, okay." 

"You see that we are sitting inside a circle-" 

Harry looked down at the floor and saw a large circle drawn there, about nine feet in diameter, with various lines and markings he did not understand. 

"-This is to protect us from evil spirits. Nobody else should enter the circle once we begin, and we must not leave until the spirit has left." 

Harry swallowed nervously. "Is this safe?" 

"Perfectly, I assure you. Now, we shall begin. Please be silent, everyone, while I achieve psychic synchronization with the next world..." Professor Trelawney closed her eyes and started breathing deeply. Minutes passed. 

Feeling completely ridiculous, Harry looked up at Ron, who merely shrugged. Lavender and Parvati had their eyes closed, deep in concentration. Malfoy was grinning at Crabbe and Goyle. Harry just fidgeted in his leather seat. _Hermione was right. This is mental._

As the time lengthened, Harry began to miss his comfortable armchair in the corner. He was starting to shiver with the draught, and could feel another sneeze coming on. He felt tired and missed having the support at his back. 

Professor Trelawney still hadn't moved. She sat perfectly still, with her eyes closed and her hands extended, palm up. 

Harry looked at his watch. Still fifteen minutes until lunch. The sneeze came, but it didn't disturb the woman sitting opposite him. Shaking, Harry attempted to rub some heat back into his stiff arms. 

He was distracted by a gasp just behind him. Parvati and Lavender had their gaze fixed on Professor Trelawney. She had opened her eyes and was looking at Harry with deep interest. 

Harry remembered his role in the spell. "Um, Professor Trelawney? Is that you?" 

Trelawney grinned. "It's _me_, silly!" she replied, laughing. 

Harry blinked. "Oh, em, I guess it didn't work, then." 

"_What_ didn't work?" 

"Well, the, er, invoking the spirits thing..." 

Trelawney burst out laughing. "Invoking the spirits! Oh, no, what did he give you to drink this time? Honestly, I'm going to kill that Sirius Black!" 

The whole room inhaled sharply. Parvati clapped her hand to her mouth, squeaked and jumped back. 

Harry was too stunned to speak. He felt really dizzy and cold. 

The expression on Professor Trelawney's face changed to one of deep concern. Instantly, she reached out and took Harry's trembling hand. "James, love, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"Mum?" Harry whispered, feeling his head falling forward, but unable to stop it. "Mum, how do I...? I-I cant figure it out, I've tried..." He trailed off, no longer able to focus on the words. Black spots were dancing and coalescing before his eyes, and he was confused by all the movement around him. Someone was pulling him up off the floor, and a woman was crying, "James! James!" but it all seemed very distant. His eyes closed, and he saw no more. 

*** 

The voices woke him up. Familiar, but long absent, they flowed over his throbbing head like silk, dragging him up from the depths of unconsciousness in the gentlest, most comforting manner possible. It took Harry several minutes to identify the speakers, but when he did, he sat bolt upright, knocking off one of the blankets and causing his migraine to swell painfully. Joy turned to agony as he rubbed fretfully at his pounding head. 

Gradually the pain dissipated, and the Hospital Wing materialised around him, with its pannelled oak walls and cast iron Victorian bedsteads. A mound of blankets had been heaped over him, and there, smiling cautiously at him from the doorway, were his godparents and Albus Dumbledore. Arabella hurried over to him and picked up the fallen eiderdown. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked, tucking the cover around him. 

"Fine," Harry said automatically, and then stopped. _Oh my God._ "Professor Trelawney!" he exclaimed, amazed his memory had taken so long to return. "She... she..." 

"It's all right, Harry-" 

"No! She... My Mum was in her body, or something... She thought I was-" 

Arabella pushed him down onto the mattress. "Shhh. It's all right. She shouldn't have upset you like that." 

"But-" 

"Just rest easy, Harry. Sirius and I will deal with Trelawney. You have to rest. Madam Pomfrey says you're very run-down." 

Harry groaned. The last thing he needed right now was to be mothered. "I'm fine," he said, but it was a weak protest. 

"Sure you are," Arabella said, "But look on the bright side. You had Sirius worried sick. He'll probably give you that apology now." Winking conspiratorially, she sat down on the edge of his bed. 

"He's not still mad about that, then?" 

"At the moment, he's too relieved to be mad about anything." 

Harry glanced doubtfully over at Sirius. He looked pretty angry. 

Arabella followed his line of vision and shrugged. "He's mad at Trelawney, not you." 

Sighing, Harry looked up at Arabella. "What really happened up there?" 

His godmother shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing happened, Harry. You know what Trelawney's like; she just has an over-active imagination. But this is unpardonable." 

"Are you saying it was all an act?" Harry cried out, enraged. His voice sounded hoarse in his ears. 

Sirius and Professor Dumbledore stopped speaking and approached the bed. 

"It was no act, Harry," the headmaster explained quietly. 

"Albus, I thought we agreed-" Sirius interjected, an annoyed expression on his face. Arabella nodded emphatically. 

"Nothing will be gained by clouding the truth," Dumbledore said. Nodding apologetically at Sirius and Arabella he moved closer to the bedside. "Harry, when people have lived in a place to which they attach great emotion, it is not unusual for a small part of them to be left behind. We all leave our imprint on the environment, as did Lily. And Professor Trelawney, innocently I must point out, tapped into a small, residual facet of your mother's spirit, the part of herself she left here as a student. It was not done to harm you, and I assure you, she greatly regrets the incident." 

"Incident!" Sirius scoffed. "Albus, really! The woman is deluded, and if she is endangering the students..." 

"Harry was in no danger, Sirius. Professor Trelawney is an able Diviner." 

Sirius huffed and glared at Arabella, looking for support. 

She squeezed his arm tenderly. "Just let it go, love, there was no harm done." 

"Of course there was harm done. Harry spent the night in here from shock and exhaustion. Like he hasn't suffered enough-" 

Without warning, Harry released an undignified yelp and jumped up. "Did you say I'd spent the night here?" 

The three adults nodded slowly in confusion. 

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked. 

Harry looked around the room, searching for answers that weren't there. "What time is it?" he said weakly. 

"Well, it's just after two p.m." Sirius replied, watching curiously as Harry started to push fretfully at the blankets. "Whoa! Where do you think you're going?" 

Harry knocked his hand away and struggled to extricate himself from the tangled sheets. "Quidditch," was all he said. Finally, his feet came free and he stepped onto the cool floor, wincing slightly. 

Dumbledore laughed. "Ah, the resilience of youth!" 

Sirius glared at him. "Surely you're not going to allow this!" 

"It seems I can't stop disagreeing with you today, Sirius! Yes, I will allow it, provided Harry has a good night's sleep tonight and keeps his library visits to a minimum, at least until his cold has cleared up." 

Harry started. Had Dumbledore said what he thought he'd said? The old man was directing that unreadable, cryptic expression at him again. But gradually the smile returned and his eyes twinkled. It was hard to worry under that kindly gaze, and Harry found himself relaxing for what seemed like the first time in ages. 

"Who're you playing?" Sirius asked, glumly. 

"Slytherin." 

"Then Gryffindor will need their Seeker," Dumbledore said. "Clothed if possible," he added quietly. 

"Huh? Oh." Harry blushed as he realised he was dressed in nothing but a rather revealing hospital gown. "Um, where are my-" 

"Here," Arabella said, handing him his clothes. "We'll let you get dressed now." 

"Thanks." 

Sirius, Arabella and Dumbledore stood and headed for the door. Before they left, however, Harry called out, "Sirius? You will stay for the match, won't you?" 

Sirius smiled back at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Harry... But make sure you don't disgrace the House." 

"I wouldn't dare," Harry replied, chuckling. 

*** 

_Pleiades (September 2nd, 2001)_

_A/N: Well, this part pretty much sets the scene for the rest of the fic. In future chapters there will be lots more Sirius, Remus, Arabella, Ginny, The Order of the Phoenix, Draco Malfoy, plus some new characters. So, will Ron and Hermione ever get together? What was Draco up to in the Library, and what does he know about Harry? What happened to Remus, and can a werewolf really be born again? What was Hagrid doing out in the storm, and what was the so-called 'form' that was with him? What is Lily's spirit doing in Hogwarts? Find out soon (hopefully!)..._

_Thanks to the following wonderful people for reviewing. Your encouragement keeps me writing. So please review again and let me know what you think. :)_

**vmr: **Thanks a lot! :)   
**summersun:** There'll be lot's more Sirius and Remus in future chapters, but I won't reveal any plot developments about that yet. Suffice to say, they won't be having a very nice time. :P Thanks for reviewing again, btw.   
**Lin-z:** Ooh, thanks again! I'm trying to get these up quickly, but unfortunately it means no beta-reading. Oh well. I hope it doesn't suffer too much.   
**VyingQuill~:**Ah, good question. I'm not answering yet. Sorry! The answer is integral to the plot, though. Hehe, thanks for reviewing.   
**PEZ:** Thanks! I've deliberately made this a bit darker.   
**Chris:** Ah, thanks. The Secret Keeper's not great, though, to be honest. Yes, I admit it. :) It started badly, since it was my first fic and I was really inexperienced, but I think it gets a lot better near the end.   
**RavenNat: **Sorry, it'll be a while before Harry gets to be happy again. Hehe, I'm not through torturing him yet. :) Thanks for reviewing again.   
**ryuu kaze:** Hurray, someone else likes Harry and Ginny as a couple. I think they're sweet, but I won't make this a complete romance. It's really just a subplot to make the story more tragic. You mentioned the way I started at the end of the series and went back to the beginning. Well, at the climax I plan to let the past and present meet up, and then the story will continue from there, which should be interesting. So nobody knows (except me) how it's going to end. Thanks for the long review, btw. Very nice of you to take the time. :)   
**lee anne:** And speaking of long reviews! Wow, thanks. First of all, Ron can't have Hermione yet, Harry can't have Ginny, and Harry can't have a hug, because then it wouldn't be a very interesting story, would it! It would be over before it even started! So, just be patient, and enjoy the angst, and I promise you Harry _will _get a hug at some point. Will he and Ron get the girls? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Surely I wouldn't be cruel enough to build you up for nothing, though, would I? Mwahaha...   
**Sailorcelestial:** Ooh, I'll have to read Broken Wing, sounds good. :) Yeah, poor Ron. I'm far too cruel to him. As for obsessive!Ginny, it'll make more sense later. I hope. Hehe, thanks again.   
**Lena:** I think that's the nicest review I've ever had! *sniffs* Thanks! That's very good to hear, especially when there are at least a dozen plot bunnies running through my head, all demanding to be written. Ah well, I've committed myself to this fic, and will finish it first. Yes, that prologue is a _bit_ intense! lol. But poor Sirius. He has a really rough time ahead of him (little does he know). Anyway, thanks again, and I hope this part met your expectations.   
**Farseeker:** If you're reading this, I'm waiting for an email telling me if I should continue that beta-reading for you. I can do it chapter by chapter, or in one long slog if you prefer. Just tell me and I'll get started. As for your review... Thanks! There'll be more Ginny in the next part.   
**Coqui: **Ah, you know I luv ya!   
**007:** Thanks, glad you like it.   
**audiaa2:** I miss having you write too! Seriously, you're one of my favourite authors. I'd love a sequel to Veracity, or maybe something completely different. You write Sirius so well. How about a Sirius fic? Ah, go on. The suspense in your work is amazing! I visited your webpage, btw. Alexander Siddig as Sirius- I like it! Thanks for reviewing, anyway. And you're right. Harry_ is_ trying to play God, and you can be sure it'll backfire on him. You've given me the moral of my story! Hehe, maybe I should just let the reviewers write this. Now there's a thought...:)   
**Jedi Cosmos:** Thanks, that's a relief. If I can't write Harry, I'm in real trouble! I can't say if it'll be a happy ending yet. Sorry! :)   
**Mortalus:** Thanks, I don't much care for Hermione either, to be honest, but I thought it would be nice to see Harry's frame of mind from the outside for a change. She was pretty useful for that.   
**Seeker_2000:** Was this quick enough? lol. Ah, don't answer. I know it wasn't. Sorry! Glad you're enjoying it! :)   
**Jeanne:** Thanks! Poor Harry is going to be a lot poorer before things improve. Hehe.   
**Harry's Crush:** Thanks again. Yes, poor Harry and Ron, misled by their own selfishness. Will they make up? Um, I'm not saying yet. Sorry!   
  
  
  



	4. Friends and Enemies

Lux Aeterna   
by Pleiades

  
  
  
  
  


_Chapter Three:_  _Friends and Enemies_

The ache of a hand slapping his face brought Remus abruptly back to consciousness. Groggily, he opened his eyes to find a rather bedraggled-looking Mira McGonagall peering down at him, her red hair awry and robes completely splattered with mud and dust. Her lips were pinched in a straight line and her expression was pained, filling Remus with a growing sense of dread. Slowly, she extended a hand to help him up, which Remus accepted with the unquestioning trust of one lately unconscious. 

He stood up, noting that he seemed unhurt, just a bit shaky. The blinding pain he had experienced earlier was now gone, thankfully, but he still didn't feel quite right. A dull emptiness had overridden his senses, making him feel like a part of himself had been removed. His brain seemed to be taking unusually long to absorb his surroundings. Muzzily, he looked around. 

What he saw shocked him to the core. 

Azkaban was in ruins. The once enormous, towering facade now lay in fragments upon the rocky seashore, its foundations hidden beneath the rubble. The air was filled with dust; it hung like a veil before his eyes, giving the daylight a dirty, stale appearance, and making it difficult to see further than ten feet in any direction. The dirt was everywhere; in his clothes, in his mouth, up his nostrils... It was like another skin upon his own. Coughing harshly to clear his lungs, Remus looked at Mira in dismay. "What on earth happened?" 

Mira looked around, as if noticing the devastation for the first time. "I wish I knew," she whispered. 

A heavy stillness had settled around them, and not a sound pervaded the unearthly calm. Their companions were not far away, staring out at the rubble with dazed expressions, but luckily appearing unhurt. 

It was then that Remus felt the muscles of his heart contract. Sirius, Harry... How could they possibly have survived? Turning away, he brought his hand to his mouth and tried to breathe. Mira squeezed his shoulder, startling him slightly, but he could not face her. His friends were dead. Again. 

*** 

_Eight Months Earlier_

Harry rushed out the front doors of Hogwarts, struggling into his red Quidditch robes and balancing the Firebolt precariously under his arm. Right away, the wind whipped against him, carrying with it the applause and roar of the entire school joyfully supporting the teams. Harry glanced at his watch and nearly choked. He was fifteen minutes late. If Malfoy caught the Snitch now all would be lost. Frantically he sped across the lawn, hardly noticing what way his robes went on. Malfoy couldn't catch the Snitch! He couldn't! 

Finally the stands loomed up before him, and he caught a fleeting glimpse of Sirius and Arabella climbing up the steps to their seats. There was no time to stop, however. The players were already in the air, and Lee Jordan's voice was booming over the pitch, "And that's Slytherin in the lead by fifty points to nothing, but I'm sure Gryffindor are only lulling them into a false sense of security..." 

Madam Hooch surveyed him curiously from the ground. "Potter, I thought you weren't playing." 

"Professor Dumbledore said I could," Harry gasped, climbing onto his broom. He was about to take-off when the teacher grabbed him by the edge of his robes. 

"One moment, Potter. I have to call for substitution." 

As Madam Hooch blew her whistle, Harry looked up in surprise. Sure enough, there _were_ seven red dots in the air. The team must have found someone to take his place. Harry wasn't sure if he was pleased about that or not. 

Madam Hooch reached into the pocket of her robes and withdrew a card with a large, red number one drawn on it, which she held up for all to see, indicating a substitution of the Gryffindor Seeker. 

Play stopped, and Harry flew up into the air towards his teammates. 

"Gryffindor calls for substitution," Lee explained, "Seems their Seeker is alive, after all. So that's Harry Potter in for Ron Weasley... Hopefully this will even the score somewhat..." 

So Ron had taken his place! Delighted, Harry looked around only to spot his friend gliding towards the ground a short distance away. Harry tried to catch his eye, but was given a swift push by Madam Hooch. "Come on, Potter, while we're young..." 

Harry took off almost vertically, scattering the throng of Slytherins trying to block his ascent, and soared up above the other players. His teammates smiled and waved as he passed, calling out words that were lost in the fierce wind that whipped past his ears. The faint cry of a whistle announced the resumption of play, and Harry quickly assumed a hovering position high enough to afford a panoramic view of the pitch. 

The stands were far below him, covered in a multitude of heads and red and green banners. Players passed over them, tossing the Quaffle and beating Bludgers with dizzying Brownian Motion, but Harry quickly tuned that out. Instead, he allowed his eyes simply to scan for the tiny gold blur that would represent victory. Victory over Slytherin, but more importantly, victory over Draco Malfoy. 

The Slytherin Seeker streaked past him, showing off and trying to intimidate. Harry just ignored him. To let his anger cloud his concentration now could prove fatal. 

He would play an intelligent game, and show Malfoy that he couldn't be intimidated, not by vague threats and alleged controversies, and certainly not by boisterous, messy flying. 

The Firebolt handled as beautifully as ever beneath him, lending an elegance to his flight that he knew could not be surpassed by the other boy. Malfoy was all speed and no control. He didn't stand a chance. 

A loud cheer below him, followed by a red wave rippling across the stands announced another impressive shot by Angelina Johnson. The buzz exhilarated him, and Harry tore through the sky, revelling in the swift passage of air across his cheeks. All fears for his parents, all the anxiety seemed to evaporate in the thrill of the moment. Winding around the back of one of the Quidditch stands and emerging much higher on the other side, he hardly even needed to hold onto his broom to maintain control. Flight just felt so natural. 

A Bludger zoomed by his left ear, but Harry hardly noticed. His attention was now firmly fixed on the blonde-haired boy soaring along directly to his left, gripping his broom so tightly he was almost horizontal with its length. It was an old tactic, one Harry was more than capable of opposing. Track the superior player. Good luck, Malfoy, Harry though smugly, pulling up abruptly on the handle of his broom. 

And then he saw it, fluttering about ten meters up. The Snitch! Kicking his legs in tight, Harry shot upward. He knew Malfoy was behind him, knew the other boy didn't stand a chance. The gold ball glittered above him, tantalisingly close. His path was clear. He was just there... 

Wham! The Bludger almost knocked the glasses from his head. Spluttering furiously, Harry was forced to pull out of his upward trajectory. Quickly he steadied his glasses and searched for the Snitch. It was gone. He couldn't hold back the curses that exploded through his lips. Where the hell had that Bludger come from? 

"What's the matter, Potter? Didn't see that coming, did you?" 

Harry turned sharply to face the other boy. Malfoy was regarding him with what could only be described as regal diffidence, grinning slyly from his broom. Harry had to admit the other boy held his broom in far greater semblance to the old wizarding nobles he saw illustrated in _Quidditch, A History_, than he ever could. 

"Cat got your mouth, Potter? It's impolite to ignore a question, you know." 

It was difficult not to gag at the notion of receiving lessons in etiquette from Draco Malfoy. Harry returned the smirk. "Did your Death Eater father tell you that? Or was it the Ministry of Magic when they were questioning you over your involvement with the Dark Lord?" 

Malfoy's left eyebrow rose slightly. "Oh, that's bitter, Potter. You'd never guess I saved your life." 

"You saved your own bloody life as usual, Malfoy. Saving me was just an annoying side-effect." 

"Well, that's true, but you have your uses... I trust you haven't forgotten our little agreement?" 

Harry felt the colour drain out of his face, and his surprise made the next words sound hollow in his ears. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now get out of the way or I'll knock you off your broom." 

To punctuate his words, Harry darted forward, smiling at the angry shriek he left in his wake. He flew down to observe the game, which was still raging amidst the whoops and yells of the spectators. 

"All right, Harry?" one of the Weasley twins yelled. 

Harry nodded, jerking his thumb back at the other Seeker and frowning. 

"We're tied at sixty all," came the slightly breathless reply, "A catch any time now would be nice!" 

Frowning, Harry gripped his broom and resumed the search for the elusive gold ball. But it was difficult to focus on the game when memories of the other night kept surfacing in his mind. He had discovered Malfoy in the Restricted Section of the library, reading about Protection Charms. Intrigued, Harry had dared to come closer, to spy from beneath the folds of his father's cloak. Unfortunately, a sneeze betrayed his presence. So now Malfoy knew he had been there, and the agreement alluded to was apparently in place. 

The only problem was, Harry didn't know what he had agreed to. What was it Malfoy had said? _I know things about you that would scare you half to death, things that would show people what you really are... _It was baffling. Perhaps Malfoy was just trying to unsettle him before the game. He was very competitive, after all. 

Gliding to a higher elevation, Harry groaned as the other Seeker started to track him again. "Go away, Malfoy!" he called, "Can't you win on your own merits?" 

"I was just going to say, Potter, that maybe we should meet to-" 

Harry whipped around in confusion when the other boy stopped talking. But Malfoy was gone, swooping downward with sickening speed, chasing- 

"The Snitch!" Lee Jordan yelled, his voice suddenly permeating Harry's senses with greater impact than a Bludger to the head. 

Immediately, Harry dropped into a steep dive, but it was too late. Nothing could stop Malfoy now. Gryffindor would lose. His first game as Captain, and Gryffindor would lose. 

Yet as his broom plummeted toward the tiny flash of gold fluttering a little off the ground, Harry could have sworn he was gaining on the other boy. It seemed impossible, even for the Firebolt, but there was no doubt about it. He was flying faster than he had ever flown before! Drawing level with his green-robed opponent, Harry caught only a flash of surprise on the other boy's face. His focus was almost entirely on the Snitch, which was rising up to meet him with heartening celerity. 

Boldly, Harry leaned down on the handle of his broom and extended his wand hand. He could hear the crowds cheering him on, could feel their astonishment at his effortless control. To dive like this, without holding on must be a spectacular sight, he reasoned. But it was so easy! In fact, it suddenly struck him that the broom under his body was unnecessary. He could fly without it if he wanted. He knew it. 

But the Snitch was in his hand, and he was soaring over the grass to the delighted cheers of his classmates. He could see Hermione, bobbing up and down, waving her red and gold scarf like a maniac. And there were Sirius and Arabella, smiling broadly. 

Harry smiled back. Somehow, he had done it. He had led Gryffindor to victory. 

If only his parents could have seen him. 

*** 

That evening, Harry's heart was lighter than it had been in a very long time. The Gryffindors threw a wild party in the tower to celebrate their resounding victory, and almost everyone turned up, even, for a time, Professor Dumbledore, who entered under the pretence of complaining about the noise but left with rather bulging pockets. Harry's happiness had a lot more to do with the company, however, than with the mounds of Chocolate Frogs, boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and sacks of Fizzing Whizzbies littering the common room floor. His godfather was there, and they were friends again. 

Catching the Snitch had certainly raised Harry's spirits, but to talk to Sirius once more about silly things like Quidditch and motorbikes was like a balm to his tortured mind. Never before had he seen his godfather so resemble the man in the picture of his parents' wedding. Sirius joked and laughed with the other students, ate more chocolate frogs than the rest of them put together, and transformed into Padfoot at every girl's beck and call. It was as if their argument had never happened, and Harry savoured every moment. 

His cold even seemed to be getting better. In recent weeks, he had become accustomed to feeling shivery and achy, but tonight he didn't so much as sniffle. He felt warmer and more comfortable than he had in ages, and as a result, his conversation had a playfulness and spontaneity that had long been lacking. 

It wasn't until Fred and George finally dragged Sirius up to the seventh year dormitory for a, "meeting," that Harry noticed Ron's absence. Hermione, too, was missing. It made him slightly uneasy. He couldn't remember seeing either of them after his departure from the Quidditch stands. And Ron had been behaving so strangely lately. He was probably still jealous over Hermione, but Harry couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to celebrate Slytherin's defeat. Nobody hated Slytherin, and Malfoy, more than Ron did. 

Feeling lonely without his friends and godfather, Harry flopped down into his usual perch by the window and stared out at the stars. He always liked sitting there, hidden from the other students by the thick crimson curtains decorating the window frame. It was quiet and peaceful, and provided an excellent view of the Forbidden Forest and the twinkling stars above. 

Tonight, they seemed unusually bright, winking back at him with dazzling silver light that seemed to tell a tale of its own. Harry imagined he could see into the starry depths of Orion's nebula, and watch the young stars bursting into life. Perhaps if he looked long enough, the answers to his problems would come to him. 

The Centaurs believed that fate was written in the heavens, that there was an answer there to every question, a guide to every action. Lives could be saved, if you only knew how to read the celestial messages. The Centaurs rarely chose to act on such information, feeling it was wrong to interfere, but one, Firenze, had. 

Maybe, he could ask- 

"Harry, we need to talk." 

Harry turned to see Hermione observing him intently, an unusually stern expression on her face. She looked wholly incongruous against the merry scene taking place behind her. 

Nodding, Harry just patted the seat next to him for her to sit down. Hermione, however, remained stock still, and looked around at the noisy teenagers in disgust. 

"Not here, Harry. Come on." 

She led him swiftly out of Gryffindor Tower and down the steps to the vacant History of Magic classroom. The torches hanging in the corridor outside faintly illuminated Professor Flitwick's enormous stack of books upon which he usually stood to deliver his lessons. It was very peaceful here at night, Harry noticed vaguely, but he had barely an instant to look around at the neat rows of desks before the door was slammed violently shut and the light vanished. 

Harry looked around in the darkness, feeling the gloom rising in his spirit. He heard Hermione mutter, "Lumos," and an instant later her face appeared over by the door. Harry swallowed nervously. Even in the semi-darkness, he could tell she was furious. "Hermione, what...?" 

"Do you know where I've spent the last hour?" she snapped. 

Harry shifted to try not to knock over the books behind him. "Um, no." 

"I have spent the last hour behind the Quidditch sheds with Ron, trying to convince him that we aren't conspiring to make a fool of him in front of the entire school." 

"What?!" 

"He's furious, Harry. I mean, really furious. I've never seen him like this... And it's all my fault. How could I have been so stupid?" 

"What's happened?" 

"He came to me after the match today, and started accusing me, well _us_ actually, of setting him up. You see, I was the one who nominated him to replace you in the match today. I thought it would cheer him up a bit. But then you showed up, and now he thinks we had it all planned." 

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Of all the times for Ron to get jealous! It was difficult to keep the hysterical pitch from his voice. "But that's crazy. We'd never do anything like that! Why would we?" 

A knowing expression spread over Hermione's features. "To be nasty. If we knew of a certain weakness of his." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Oh, Harry, isn't it obvious? He thinks we're in love. He's jealous." 

"Again!" Harry exclaimed. "This is ridiculous. Even if we were, em, you know, we'd never do that to him. Besides, I spent last night in the Hospital Wing. How was I supposed to know when I'd be released? Or did I fake that and all?" 

Hermione shook her head and sat on the edge of one of the desks. "I know... He's just been so paranoid lately. I suppose I should be flattered." 

Flattery was the last thing Harry imagined she was feeling. Ron's behaviour was bordering on obsession. But he couldn't tell her that, not if she returned Ron's feelings. Instead, Harry settled for, "So what did you say to him?" 

"Well there wasn't much I _could_ say. He was so busy yelling at me and crying over his broken heart that I barely got a word in." 

Right, Harry thought, time to sort this out once and for all. "Where is he?" 

Hermione must have seen the steely determination in his eye for she immediately looked uneasy. "I wouldn't try to talk to him yet, Harry. Give him a while to calm down... Come on; let's go back upstairs. Maybe he's returned by now." 

"I doubt it," Harry muttered as the two exited the classroom. 

As he made his way up the cold steps to the tower, Harry couldn't help but feel that life was back to its normal miserable self. In his haste to return to the warmth of the Gryffindor common room he accidentally dropped his wand down the stairs. It bounced teasingly down first one flight and then another, before rolling to a stop against an old suit of armour. Cursing, Harry rushed down to retrieve it. Yes, Harry decided, life was definitely back to normal. And then, ironically, he sneezed. 

*** 

"Ah, there you are!" Sirius roared above the common room din. "Just in time for the grand unveiling!" 

Harry smiled weakly at his godfather and strode over to the couch he shared with Fred and George. The twins seemed ecstatic, both peering into the identical black boxes they clutched tightly in their hands, and then turning to smile broadly at Sirius. 

"What's going on?" Hermione asked from behind. "Oh, no. Don't tell me. I think I know." 

Suddenly, Sirius hopped up and clapped one hand on both their shoulders. "Harry, Hermione, I've always said you two needed fattening up. Now, it just so happens that Weasley and Weasley here have invented a wonderful new foodstuff, with a little help from myself, of course. Why don't you give it a try? I'm sure you'll love it." 

"I knew it," Hermione grumbled. "No way." 

"Oh, come on," Fred enthused, "They're delicious. Strawberry flavoured!" 

"Honestly," said George, "They're not dangerous." 

"Find another guinea pig," Harry said, forcing a grin. "Besides, I can't taste anything with this cold." 

"Well, then! What harm can it possibly do you?" 

"Plenty," said Harry, walking away. "Find someone else." 

Harry sat back down by the window and tried to ignore the sound of the twins and his godfather arguing over who would be stupid enough to test their new invention. He needed to think. About Ron, his parents, Draco Malfoy, but above all, about himself. So many strange things had been happening around him lately, the pains in his scar, the odd sensation he had when looking out at the Forbidden Forest, the enormous form he thought he saw out in the thunderstorm with Hagrid the other night, the feeling he had earlier on his broom, like he could fly without it, the perpetual cold that surrounded him, the incident in Divination... 

Was there any connection? And what did it all mean? 

With so many thoughts and fears running through his head, Harry suddenly yearned for the Pensieve given to him by Dumbledore. Unfortunately, it was back in his room in Privet Lawns, but maybe if he asked Sirius to send it... 

"Sirius!" he called, "Can you come here for a minute?" 

His godfather looked up from George's box and nodded. Handing it back to the owner, he stood and joined Harry on the window seat. "Honestly, Harry, I thought the Marauders were troublemakers. But we were nothing compared to those two!" 

Harry forced a smile. "They say the same about you." 

Looking over at the twins, Sirius laughed. Then, turning back to Harry he asked, "So what's bothering you? You're the only one not celebrating." 

"Nothing's bothering me. I was just going to ask if you could send me my Pensieve. I left it back home." 

"Oh, I see," Sirius said, cocking his head on one side and eyeing him shrewdly, "'Nothing's bothering me... I need my Pensieve.' Come on, Harry, you know you can talk to me." 

"Look, I just want to get my thoughts in order, that's all. You know exams are coming up, and-" 

Sirius looked dubious. "From what I hear, exams are the last thing on your mind." 

"Yeah, well, I still have to sit them... Will you send it? If you get another owl to help Hedwig they should be able to bring it together." 

Sirius looked disappointed. "All right, I'll send it... I know you have a lot on your mind, but please, will you at least assure me that necromancy isn't one of them?" 

Harry found it difficult to look his godfather in the eye. "Of course not." 

"Harry, you don't know how monstrous it is. Please, for your own good, forget about it." 

The thought that Sirius might know how to bring his parents back almost brought tears to Harry's eyes. Why couldn't people just help him, for once, instead of standing aside and observing, ready to stop him if he succeeded, or comfort him if he failed? It only made him feel worse, betrayed. 

"Dumbledore said you'd been in the library a lot lately," Sirius continued, "What were you studying?" 

"I think you've already decided." 

Sirius placed his hand gently on Harry's arm, meaning to comfort him. "Look, we're just trying to help you. You don't know what you're getting into-" 

Harry angrily withdrew his arm and turned back to the window. He suddenly became very interested in the constellation Pleiades. 

"I don't want another argument, Harry, and nor do you. Look at me!" 

Reluctantly, Harry turned to face his godfather. There was a fierce intensity in Sirius' eyes that unsettled him. 

Sirius moved forward until his face was less than an inch away from his godson's. "Can you accept that I'm just trying to protect you? I'm not doing this to be cruel." 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "I know... I just wish you'd help me do it. It's harder than I thought it would be. There's nothing in the library, and nobody will tell me anything..." He broke off as a sob escaped his lips. 

Sirius gripped his hand. "I'm sorry, Harry. You know I'd do anything for you, but I can't do this. It would destroy you. You must trust me." 

"... But he did it. Voldemort did it..." 

"Dark magic, Harry. And lies. I couldn't bear to see you go down that path. You're a wonderful boy, so full of light. Don't let him tempt you into Darkness." 

Tilting Harry's face to meet his eyes, Sirius added, "He wants you to do it, you know. It would be his greatest triumph. But you're stronger than that. I know you are." 

In truth, Harry didn't feel strong at all, but he didn't want to worry Sirius any more, so he nodded glumly and pulled away to rub his eyes. 

"Good," Sirius said, "Don't forget that... And I think it would be best for now if you stayed out of the Restricted Section. Dumbledore told me you're not the only underage student who's been sneaking in there lately, so he's going to put some new enchantments in to guard it." 

Horrified, Harry looked away. Without the Restricted Section, he would never learn how to bring back his parents. He would be completely helpless. 

"Forget about books for a while, Harry. Try to enjoy yourself. Besides, you're the Quidditch Captain now. Lots of responsibilities. And your keeper could use some training, I think..." 

"Yeah..." 

Sirius looked at his watch. "Geez, I'll have to be going soon. I left 'Bella discussing Concealment Charms with Flitwick in his office. 'Told her I'd only be an hour. She'll kill me." 

"She could always join the party," Harry said sarcastically. 

"Yeah, right. I think we both know she's not the partying type. Besides, one of us has to pay the bills. Might as well be her!" 

Harry nodded in understanding. Arabella was far more serious than her fiancé, and something of a workaholic too. During his summer in Privet Lawns, Harry had rarely seen her with her head out of a book or her hand off her wand. Sirius often complained about her lack of a sense of fun, but it got him nowhere. Arabella was the most professional Tactical Advisor the Order of the Phoenix had ever employed, and she wasn't about to lose that hard-earned reputation over her fiancé's boredom. 

Harry's godmother might not have had the most exciting career, but at least it was safe. Sirius' career on the other hand had led to the terrible argument between he and his godson that had only been resolved that very morning. He was an Auror. 

It still irked Harry to think of his godfather putting his life in danger every day, but he was determined not to fall out over it again. To do so would achieve very little anyway, since Sirius was nothing if not stubborn. "How's _your_ work going, Sirius?" he asked politely, watching carefully for any trace of annoyance at the question. 

Sirius eyed him sharply, but his features gradually softened into a smile. "Fine, Harry, not that I can tell you much about it. It's top-secret, you see. But you'll be glad to hear I'm not doing anything too dangerous at the moment, just re-appropriating the fortunes of former Death Eaters. It's a bit of fun, actually. Did you know Lucius Malfoy collected Chocolate Frog cards? There must have been at least ten thousand of them in the safe. He even had Agrippa!" 

"Ron would love that one," Harry said brightly, before remembering the other boy was no longer his friend. 

Sirius noticed the strained look on his face. "Where _is_ Ron? It's not like him to miss a party." 

Before Harry could respond, the Weasley twins leapt to their feet and screamed, "Neville!" The younger boy almost dropped Trevor in his surprise at the rapturous reception. 

"Looks like they've found their victim," Sirius observed dryly. "But go on, Harry. Where is he?" 

"Hmmm? Oh, Ron. Well..." Harry gave him a brief account of everything Hermione had told him. By the end, however, he was amazed to see that Sirius was still smiling. "How can you smile? I've just lost my best friend!" 

"Sorry, Harry. This just seems very familiar to me. It's quite funny in retrospect. You see, I used to be jealous of James too. He was so popular, he could have had any girl he wanted. But I knew he wasn't the type to abuse his popularity, so I didn't really have a problem with it at first. It wasn't until I started having feelings for 'Bella that I got worried. I was afraid he'd take her from me, you see. But I was wrong. James only ever had feelings for one woman, and that was Lily. 

If two people are meant to be together, Harry, then nothing can stop them. I strongly believe that, especially after your parents. 

Don't worry, Ron will see sense. He's just insecure 'cause you're the more worthy man down on paper. He isn't taking either of their feelings into account, and that's the most important thing. If you like, I could talk to him for you." 

"Um, I don't know where he is. He's been missing since the match." 

"That's what the Marauder's Map is for, Harry." 

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I didn't think of that. I'll be back in a minute." 

As Harry raced up the stairs to his dormitory, he could hear Fred and George trying to attract Sirius' attention again. He had to admit that for a grown man, Sirius fit in very well in Gryffindor Tower. It was as if he'd never grown up at all. Harry supposed it must have had something to do with the fact that Azkaban had stolen his adult life from him. He'd never really had the chance to grow up. 

With the Marauder's Map tucked safely in a pocket of his Quidditch robes, Harry made his way back down to the common room. The small area was packed with students from all years, and they were forming a tight ring around Fred and George. Harry had to squeeze and wriggle his way through to find his godfather. 

Sirius was sitting on the floor next to Neville, who was happily munching his way through some kind of sweet. Fred and George were watching Neville with a predatory gleam in their eyes, which was all too transparent to Harry. 

"What have you given him?" he demanded. 

Sirius grinned. "It's called a g-" 

"No!" Fred screamed, "Don't say the name yet." 

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously. 

"You'll see." 

"'Don't know what you're all so scared of," Neville said, "It's delicious. I love strawberry." 

Harry sat down next to Sirius and discretely handed him the map, which Sirius promptly stuffed up his sleeve. Quietly, he whispered into his godfather's ear, "What is he eating?" 

"A Gastric Grenade." 

"A what?!" 

Before Sirius could reply there was a muffled bang, followed by a rapid ejection of black smoke from Neville's mouth. As the poor boy opened his mouth in shock, several teeth fell out. He then clutched his stomach in pain, glaring at the Weasley twins but unable to speak. 

Hermione bustled forward to take Neville's arm. "You two!" she hissed at Fred and George, "Look what you've done to him!" 

"Yeah," George laughed, "Great, isn't it?" 

"Gastric Grenades," Fred announced proudly, "Only five Sickles a piece. Delight your friends and silence your enemies! Orders are now being taken." 

"You destroyed his teeth!" Hermione exclaimed. "As Gryffindor Prefect, I'm going to have to report this to Professor McGonagall, as well as the names of any students who place orders." 

"Oh, come on, Hermione. Where's your sense of humour?" Lee Jordan asked. 

Glaring at the seventh years, Hermione helped Neville up and together they headed for the portrait hole. "I'm taking Neville to the Hospital Wing. But don't think you can get away with murder just because I'm not here. The Fat Lady spies for me in my absence." 

Fred and George looked at each other in amazement. Then they moved to shake Sirius' hand as he rose from his position on the floor. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Padfoot," Fred enthused. 

"Yeah," echoed George, "A real honour." 

"Don't mention it, boys." 

"-Especially to Arabella," Harry added. 

Sirius turned to him and laughed. "Good point. I'd better go. Stay out of trouble, Harry." 

Harry grumbled a reply and watched as Sirius exited. Before the portrait hole closed, however, Sirius waved back at him with the Marauder's Map in his hand. That at least cheered him up a bit. Maybe Sirius could get Ron to be friends with him again. 

*** 

It wasn't until much later, when Harry couldn't sleep and decided to examine the new enchantments on the library, that he realised Sirius hadn't returned the map to him. Frowning at the realisation, he stopped at the foot of his bed to reconsider his actions. Going out without the map would be dangerous, but surely not impossible. After all, his father's cloak would give him all the protection he'd need. So long as he listened carefully for Filch or one of the teachers, he would be fine. If anything went wrong, it wouldn't really matter. Sirius probably intended to post the map the following morning with the Pensieve. So there was always tomorrow night. 

His mind made up, Harry quickly pulled on a pair of old socks against the cold. The Invisibility Cloak was still under his pillow, where he had recently started keeping it for easy access. He stuffed his wand into the inside pocket, tucked the cloak under his arm, and stole quietly from the room. He noticed that Ron's bed was still empty. 

Descending the stairs into the common room, Harry made a mental note of his intentions. First, he would go to the library, and _carefully_ examine the enchantments on the Restricted Section. If he managed to get past them he would continue his research. Otherwise, he'd just go for a walk until he felt tired enough to sleep. The Forbidden Forest seemed a likely place for that. 

The first thing that struck him as he neared the archway into the common room was that it was unusually bright. Then he heard the voices. One was definitely Hermione's, and the other sounded like Neville's. 

Harry sighed in frustration. They would never let him go out alone so late at night. There was only one thing for it. 

Quickly, he wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak and crept into the room. Neville and Hermione were sitting near the fire, talking quietly. It surprised Harry to hear how much more confident Neville sounded away from the usual crowd of his classmates. He was smiling serenely at Hermione over his hot chocolate, teeth apparently restored, encouraging her to tell him the real reason she was up so late. 

"Like I said," she was saying with just a hint of sadness in her voice, "I'm waiting for Ron to come back. He's been gone all night." 

"Yeah, I know, but... There has to be more to it than that. Did something happen?" 

Feeling curious, Harry decided to stay and listen. 

"We had a minor disagreement," Hermione said, looking away. 

"You two are always fighting," Neville said thoughtfully. "I think he fancies you." 

Staying silent, Hermione sipped her tea, but Harry could see that the edges of her lips were curved into a thin, satisfied smile. It was the look she often had in transfiguration when she was the first to complete a spell. 

After a moment, Neville spoke up. "Maybe we should tell a teacher. It's nearly two a.m." 

"No, that'd only make him angrier. Don't worry, he'll show up." 

Neville put down his cup and looked over at the stairway to the boys's dormitories. "Well I'm surprised Harry isn't out looking for him, I thought they were close..." 

Hermione sighed. "They are, usually. But I think Ron has the impression that Harry's on my side, so Harry can't really go after him unless he wants to spend the next few hours belching slugs." 

"You're not going to tell me what's happened between you three, are you?" 

"Sorry, Neville, I can't. I don't want to embarrass Ron." 

"No, no, I shouldn't have asked. Gran's always saying I'm too nosy." 

"No, you're not. It's fine... But seriously, I'd be afraid I'd only make things worse with Ron if I told you anything. He doesn't really trust me right now, as it is." 

"Oh..." 

Harry could see the guilt flushing Neville's cheeks a bright red. He hated to offend anyone, even when he didn't offend them. It was just his way. 

"Neville," Hermione began, clearly anxious to change the subject, "Have you thought about what you'll do when you leave Hogwarts?" 

"Leave Hogwarts! Oh, gosh, no, that's much too far away to be thinking about now... Isn't it?" 

Hermione smiled warmly. "Well, when you think about it, two years really isn't very long. I mean, it only seems like yesterday I was fighting a mountain troll with Harry and Ron. But that was five years ago!" 

Harry found himself grinning at the memory. He could still smell the troll bogies on his wand. 

"Yeah, it _has_ gone by quickly... I don't know. I suppose I'll take whatever job I'm offered. But I'll just be glad to pass my N.E.W.T.s." 

Hermione eyed him severely. "You shouldn't aim so low. I bet you'll get a great mark in Herbology. Wouldn't you like to work with plants?" 

Neville beamed at the unexpected compliment. "I hadn't really thought about it, but now that you say it, I guess it _would_ be nice..." 

"-Or you could follow in your Great Uncle Algie's footsteps!" 

"No way! Even if people were mad enough to vote for me, I'd never want to be the Minister for Magic. All that paperwork and responsibility... No thanks." 

"Still, though, you must be proud to be related to him." 

"Well, he's still just Uncle Algie to me, but I suppose he's doing a good job. Auntie Enid says so, anyway, and she knows all about politics. She says he plans to destroy anyone who uses Dark Magic, even if they say You-Know-Who made them do it. He'll take away their money and send them to prison, or maybe even have them executed. He's very strong-willed, Uncle Algie. But I suppose it's a good thing. At least it shows he's taking things seriously." 

"Yeah... A bit scary, though, isn't it?" 

"What is?" 

"The whole zero-tolerance thing. What if they imprison someone who's innocent?" 

Harry instantly thought of Sirius and understood Hermione's concern. 

"Well, I suppose it's just up to the Aurors to catch the right wizards, then." 

"But they _could _make a mistake." 

"Nah, not likely. I think on the whole they do more good than harm. Look at the Malfoys. If Uncle Algie hadn't called the Aurors on them, Draco would have inherited the entire family fortune. All that money and power... It's not right. I mean, there'd be nothing to stop him from bribing his way through the legal system just like his father did. I'm just sorry they didn't have enough evidence to throw him into prison for good." 

Harry listened, astonished, not only at the bitter tone in Neville's voice, but also at the revelation that Malfoy had not inherited the family fortune. He remembered what Sirius had told him earlier about the Order seizing some of the family's property. 

It seemed he wasn't the only one having problems. 

"Well," Hermione replied, "I'd be lying if I said I felt sorry for him, but I still don't agree with giving the Ministry power over life and death. There are too many Moodys and Crouches out there for my liking." 

All of a sudden, Harry shivered under his cloak. Conscious of the thinness of his socks, he moved slowly across the room to restore some of the heat to his toes. Hermione and Neville started rubbing their hands vigorously with the same purpose. Their breath condensed before their mouths. 

"Phew, cold in here, isn't it?" said Neville, gazing into the contrary flickering blaze before him in confusion. 

"Must be the winter coming in." 

Harry found he couldn't stay still a moment longer. He was frozen to the core and needed to leave. With a final glance back at the two students trying to coax more heat into the already well-fuelled fireplace, Harry turned on his heel and left. 

*** 

Ginny woke with a start, shivering violently under the bedclothes. At first she didn't understand the fear coursing through her veins like a stimulant, forcing her feet straight to the icy floor of the moonlit dormitory. Her heart pounded in her ears, giving her the strangest feeling of deja-vu, and her eyes seemed to search the darkness of their own accord, looking for the cause of her distress. 

It seemed a surreal moment, almost like a waking dream, and it was terribly cold. But then she remembered why it felt so familiar. Voldemort was coming. He was coming for Harry. 

Ginny's mouth opened wide in terror and she grabbed her wand from the bedside table. An instant later she bolted from the room. 

*** 

Sirius hadn't been kidding, Dumbledore _had_ put new enchantments on the Restricted Section of the library, and they were formidable. Pacing back and forth before the door, Harry let out an exasperated hiss. No matter what he did, he just couldn't push the door open. He'd tried every counter spell he could think of, from, "_Finite Incantatem!_" to, "_Alohomora!_" but to no avail. 

He wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the fact that the door was clearly unlocked. Perhaps it was Dumbledore's idea of a joke, leaving the lock open behind the enchantments to tease him, but kicking the bars in frustration, Harry grudgingly admitted it wasn't quite the headmaster's style. No, most likely it was an oversight on behalf of the librarian, Madam Pince, the first such oversight Harry had ever seen. 

One thing was certain, however, he would have to find some way inside. All the information he needed to save his parents was concealed within. There had to be some way to get to it. 

Harry ran his wand along the edge of the doorframe. Knowing Dumbledore, the charm keeping the door shut would have some poignancy, some characteristic to mock anyone who tried to break it, like the age line he'd used to stop underage students putting their names in the Goblet of Fire. But what... what would he do with a door? 

Harry thought frantically. Maybe he had to knock politely, or ring a doorbell or something. 

Throwing the Invisibility Cloak back over his shoulders, Harry placed both hands flat on the door and began to feel along its surface for a hidden knocker. He had to jump to reach the top part, waving his hands like an idiot to check in the corners, but he still found nothing. It was just a normal, wooden, slightly cold door. 

Maybe if he tried something else... Some of the doors in Hogwarts only opened when you tickled them in the right place. 

Feeling completely ridiculous, Harry proceeded to tickle the door. He started across the front, teasing it gently with his fingers. When this failed, he moved onto the lock itself. Again nothing. He was just about to try the surrounding frame, when he was distracted by the sound of running feet behind him. Panicking, he swung round, but it was too late. 

Ginny was staring at the pyjama clad arm floating in the corridor before her with a terrified, but not so surprised expression on her face. 

"Harry" she gasped, "I found you." She took a few quick breaths. "Are you okay? I was so worried. Come on, we have to go back to the dormitory..." She rushed forward to take his arm. 

Harry didn't follow at once, but found he couldn't retract his wrist from the tight grip around it. "Er, Ginny? What are you talking about?" 

"Come on, it's not safe here," she insisted, pulling him a few steps forward. "We have to hide. We have to-" 

Harry watched as the beginnings of doubt formed in the wide blue eyes before him. Ginny was staring back at him with a mixture of confusion and mortification on her face. Some of the buttons on her blue nightshirt were open, exposing a thin wedge of pale skin beneath. 

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking... It must have been a dream, or something..." 

"What happened?" 

"I don't know. I just woke up and knew that I had to find you. I didn't even question it at the time. It was weird, I thought your were going to be killed or something..." 

"Sounds like some dream," Harry said, wondering what grinning madman had taken hold of his body. "Um, maybe you should put this on." He offered her the cloak. 

Ginny looked down and blushed an even brighter shade of red. "Oh, I, em, just came straight here. Thanks." 

Harry helped her drape the cloak around her shoulders and couldn't suppress a laugh when she looked down at her body and gasped. 

"Wow! That's... amazing. I always thought it would feel strange, but it doesn't, not really, and-" 

Harry waited for her to finish, but she just clapped a hand over her mouth and continued to blush. 

"Oh! Forget I said that," she said miserably. 

"Why?" Harry was genuinely at a loss. 

Ginny looked down at the floor, perhaps silently begging it to open up and consume her. "Oh, it's embarrassing... I just had this dream once where we went out in it together... " She saw the expression on his face. "Well, I _told_ you to forget I said it!" 

Harry felt his own cheeks blushing. Struggling to maintain his composure, he looked around the empty corridor. His eyes slowly moved from the still open lock behind him back to the girl's head floating in the air in front of him. The sight was bizarre to say the least. "Do you, em, want to go back, then?" 

Ginny looked suspicious. "Are you coming too?" 

"Well..." 

"Harry, come on, it's dead late. You can't stay..." She followed his line of sight to the door of the Restricted Section. "What were you doing here, anyway?" 

Harry considered searching for an answer, but then stopped abruptly. "What were _you_ doing here?" 

"Me? I told you. I had a dream where I had to find you, so I did. There. Your turn!" 

"I was just passing by, actually." 

"Really/" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Yes, really!... Oh, come on, let's go back. This is ridiculous." 

"Fine." 

Harry turned to go. A moment too late he realised that Ginny wasn't beside him. 

A small voice spoke from behind him, "Better close this door. Don't want you losing any more points for Gryffindor..." 

"No, wait!" 

Ginny tugged on the immobile lock. "This is strange. It won't move!" 

Harry looked up at the ceiling in despair, but he could tell the dazzling azure eyes never left him. It was hard to keep scowling when the pretty face kept observing him so admiringly. He cleared his throat. "It, em, seems to be enchanted that way, probably to keep students out." 

"Oh... Harry, this wouldn't have anything to do with you, would it?" 

Harry was taken aback by her perspicacity. "I don't know what you mean." 

"I've seen you in there-" 

"What!" 

"-No, not in the Restricted Section, just in the library. Why, what did you think I meant?" 

Furious with himself, Harry said nothing. 

"So you _have_ been in... And you were trying to get in tonight, but Dumbledore charmed it to keep you out!" 

_Damn._ "Ginny..." 

"I knew it!" 

"Please, you can't tell anyone-" 

"Well, of course I wouldn't tell anyone. What do you take me for?" 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and then realised he should never have suspected her in the first place. She was a Weasley, after all, and very loyal to her friends. 

Ginny turned to him eagerly. "You know, Harry, I'm pretty good with Charms... I might be able to help you-" 

"No!" 

"But, I-" 

"No way. I'll figure it out on my own, thanks." 

Ginny turned and placed her hands on her hips defiantly. "Why not?" she demanded. 

"Because Ron is mad enough at me right now. There's nothing you can say to change my mind, end of story." 

Ginny glared at him and walked away, but she stopped after a few paces and turned to him. "Well? Are you coming or not?" 

Harry couldn't help but stare. Now that she wasn't gazing at him in hero-worship, Ginny actually looked quite attractive. The Invisibility Cloak hid most of her body, but it was her eyes that captivated him. Vivid blue, and framed by a curtain of soft red curls, they reminded him of his mother. And she seemed taller somehow, more graceful than Ron's little sister. 

Ginny was growing up at last. Harry wondered that he'd never noticed it before. Swallowing nervously, he followed her down the stairs. 

They hadn't gone far when Ginny let out a squeal and ran on ahead. Harry winced at the noise, but smiled with relief when he saw who was there. Watching them curiously from the bottom of the stairs was a tall, red-haired figure in a thick green jumper. It seemed Ron was back at last. 

*** 

Within an hour the castle was silent but for the usual creaks and mutterings of the staircases. Draco slipped quietly through the enchanted door of the Restricted Section and then, stopping for a moment in the corridor outside, pocketed his wand and straightened his pyjamas. A small, satisfied smile began to appear on the edges of his mouth, but he quickly stifled it with a yawn. He was tired, but at least he would sleep in peace tonight, knowing that at last his troubles were coming to an end. His plan was so clever, so insidious! His father would have been proud. 

With a rustle of silk, Draco headed back to the dungeons, mulling over the plan as he went. He was sure it would work. Getting Potter to do it probably wouldn't be too difficult; the kid was clearly desperate to have his parents back. And as his father had always said, need is a powerful ally. 

Yes, Draco decided, everything would definitely be fine now. 

*** 

_Pleiades (November 15th, 2001)_

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the excellent SailorCelestial, ego-booster extraordinaire. Without her giving me the kick up the arse I deserved, I might never have gotten round to finishing this. Thank you! And she's written loads of great fics, so go read them! I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed the last part. Please review again, since as you can see, nothing else keeps me writing. 

Please email me at keeganlm@yahoo.com if you'd like to receive an authoralert for future chapters. I know it's a pain trying to keep up with stories without it. You can also send feedback there if you like. Btw, this story is also now archived at Schnoogle, which is a great site, so you can read or review there if you prefer. The next part should be up within two weeks.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Help from an Unlikely Source

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters or concepts. This is just a work of fanfiction, from which no profit will be made. 

**Lux Aeterna**   
**By Pleiades**

  


_Chapter Four: Help From an Unlikely Source_   
  
Ron emerged from deep unconsciousness and stared blindly into the surrounding darkness. He could see little, and no sound permeated the crushing stillness of the air, but the thick, musty stench of dust and decay threatened to overwhelm his senses. Shakily, he ran his hands over the cavern floor, searching for his wand, but it was nowhere to be found. He sat up, and abruptly hit his head on something hard. 

"Sirius?" he called quietly, for fear of bringing more rubble down around them. He winced at the pain the sound brought to his sensitive head. "Can you hear me?" 

Moments passed, and he was beginning to despair, until suddenly, a small, dim light appeared through a clink in the surrounding slabs. It moved steadily closer, causing his head to throb even more. A weak voice whispered, "Ron, is that you?" 

Ron let out a sigh of relief. It was Sirius; his wand glowed brightly in the cavern beyond. "I'm here," Ron replied, "But I seem to be trapped. Can you do anything?" 

"I don't know if I should risk it; it might all come down on top of you." 

"There must be something you can do," Ron said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Try _Wingardium Leviosa_!" 

"There are too many rocks; I can't levitate them all at once. Just try to stay calm. I'm going to get some help." 

As the light from Sirius' wand receded, Ron struggled against the cold fear growing in his mind. The time passed slowly, and he soon discovered that sitting still in a cramped space with little air to breathe was even more unpleasant than he'd feared. Trapped and alone, he just prayed that there would be people alive left to help. 

When light finally returned, several lights now, bobbing like fireflies in the darkness, Ron was more relieved than he cared to admit. It was a great comfort to hear voices again, even if they spoke in tones of gravity and concern. They seemed to be debating what to do. Muffled grating sounds indicated that someone was attempting to remove the rocks by hand. Sirius' face soon appeared in the small crack in front of him. 

"Ron, we're going to try lifting the rocks manually. There should be enough of us to do it. Just try not to move." 

Ron forced himself not to laugh at Sirius' request. There was barely enough space to move his arms. He kept this information to himself, however, not wanting to impede the rescue operation taking place outside. 

Dust rained down on him periodically as the rubble was disturbed, but it wasn't long before he could make out the hands of his companions. Within moments he was free, crawling out of his cramped prison to stand in the dimly lit cavern. With freedom came realisation. The night sky was above him. Occasionally, as the sea breeze blew the dusty air aside in dull grey patches, tiny, twinkling stars were revealed far above. The only sound came from the crashing of waves on rocks. Azkaban lay in ruins. Ron rubbed his head and turned to one of the wizards. "What the hell happened?" 

"We don't know," was the reply. The wizard looked no less stunned than Ron himself felt. "The place just fell down around us. You-Know-Who's body disintegrated, and all the Death Eaters… " 

"What about Harry?" Sirius demanded sharply. The wizard came forward to clutch his wrist sympathetically, but Sirius recoiled in fury. "Tell me!" 

Ron held his breath waiting for the response. Until that moment, he hadn't fully realised that his sister's body had been caught in the rubble too. 

"I'm sorry, Sirius; we couldn't retrieve his body. It was too deeply buried, the girl's too. There was nothing we could do." 

"The Emergency Services will get them out," a kindly witch said. "But this place isn't safe for us now. We have to leave." 

There was a collective murmur of agreement, and Ron found himself being led away. He was distracted by a commotion behind him. It seemed Sirius was refusing to leave. 

"I know it's hard, Sirius," one of the wizards was saying, "but we have to leave. Harry wouldn't want you to get hurt…" Ron looked back and saw that Sirius was backing slowly away, into the former position of the tunnel to the main cavern, where Harry had been lost. The expression on his face was one of fierce determination, and Ron knew that nobody could turn him from his task. 

"I'm going back for Harry," Sirius said. Then he turned and left. 

The wizard behind Ron's back sighed and muttered something about shock, but Ron hardly heard him. He was still thinking of Sirius' words, and of his set features as he had gone to rescue his godson's body. He then thought of Ginny, trapped under the filthy ruins of Azkaban. A moment later the hand was back on Ron's shoulder, leading him away, but he twisted sharply from the tight grasp. He moved to follow Sirius. "I'm going back for Ginny," he said, and ran before anyone could stop him. 

*** 

_Five months earlier…_

Christmas was approaching Hogwarts, but not even the brightly lit tree in the Great Hall, glistening with its cheerful red and gold baubles, could lift the prevailing atmosphere of gloom and impending disaster from the students who trudged to their classes, anxiously watching the shadows for the first sign of danger. It had been two months since the Daily Prophet had reported an attack by Lord Voldemort and his followers on Gringotts Bank, an incident that had cost thirty-three goblins and two dragons their lives, and people were still understandably nervous. The bigger Wizarding institutions like the Ministry of Magic, the Merlin School of Auror Training, and indeed Hogwarts itself, had been on high alert ever since. It was a tense time, and nobody seemed to be in the mood for celebrating. Constant vigilance had become the order of the day, and with good reason. 

Quite apart from the lives that had been lost in the attack, the Wizarding public had also been forced to deal with the loss of a tremendous fortune in gold. Many people had lost their savings, particularly those in possession of inferior, less expensive vaults. And with Christmas approaching, the loss had been felt most acutely. It was said that the shops of Diagon Alley were practically devoid of customers, an almost unheard of phenomenon for the month of December. 

The students of Hogwarts were also quite penniless, with fewer and fewer of them choosing to visit Hogsmeade for sweets and other luxuries. Gone were the days when chocolate frogs could be seen leaping down the dormitory staircases only to be squashed underfoot by some unseeing child. 

The Weasleys had lost everything; only Fred and George's savings had rescued the family from near destitution. Hermione had lost all her own savings, but fortunately her parents, being Muggles, were unaffected by the theft and had swiftly sent her a tidy sum to see her through the year. Seamus Finnegan, Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Angelina Johnson… all the Pureblood Wizarding children in Gryffindor House had lost everything. 

Except Harry. 

By some extraordinary miracle Harry's savings had been left untouched. His vault, by no means more secure than that of the Weasleys, was seemingly ignored by the thieves, while those all around it were plundered. It was a mystery, but Harry had no time to ponder the intricacies of Gringotts security. His research into the dark subject of necromancy had effectively ended two months earlier when Professor Dumbledore had placed an enchanted lock on the Restricted Section to stop him entering. And while that should have left Harry with plenty of time to concentrate on his good fortune, his classes and indeed on the upcoming O.W.L. examinations, his mind was in far too much turmoil to allow him the luxury of such frivolous thoughts. 

He couldn't accept failure, not in this. His parents needed him, and he refused to let them down. Often he thought of what it would be like to finally bring them back, of how different his life would be then. No sooner would he dare to look into these fantasies, however, than he would abruptly push them back, too terrified to allow himself to imagine that they could ever come to pass. Just the thought of seeing his mother and father again daunted him; if he lingered on the image of their faces for too long, he would become lost in the sadness of not knowing if he would ever be able to smile upon them again. And now, blocked from all attempts to bring his dreams into reality, Harry had nothing left to dwell upon but the pain, and it was slowly crushing him. 

He knew Dumbledore and Sirius were only trying to help him. They were convinced that he would fail, and that the inevitable realisation that Lily and James were gone forever would drive him into a grief from which he might never return. Convinced that necromancy was an unthinkable thing, they had sought to block all Harry's efforts to save his parents. They thought they were protecting him. 

What they never stopped to consider was that he might succeed. During his months of research he had never found anything to tell him how to raise the dead, but still, he had never stopped believing that it was possible. Through it all, he had known that it was only a matter of time before he found the elusive book, the torn, ancient parchment, the tarnished, engraved chalice that bestowed the secret he so desperately sought. It was hidden somewhere, and he knew he was meant to find it. But alone, and without the resources of the Hogwarts Restricted Section, success seemed a long way away. 

And so he had nothing left to do but reflect on what might have been. But perhaps, if he kept his eyes and ears open, he might find something, some vital clue to renew his hope. Or perhaps Dumbledore would change his mind, and see that by banning Harry from his research he was doing more harm than good. Perhaps. 

*** 

Hermione waited anxiously on the grass outside Hagrid's hut, watching the castle grounds carefully for any sign of Harry. Care of Magical Creatures had started ten minutes ago, and already she could hear the telltale screams and laughs that characterized one of Hagrid's lessons. Whatever the class was learning about today, she reasoned, it must be something special. The children cheered and whooped delightedly, making the fear and the sadness in her heart well up and seem suddenly incongruous. With everyone being so gloomy these days, it was unusual to hear such high laughter, and it filled her with a deep sense of regret for all that had changed with Voldemort's return. She hardly dared to imagine what Harry must be feeling. 

She had seen him suffer before, and knew how he looked when he was feeling depressed, or sad, or terrified. But in the last few months, she had seen an edge to his personality that was entirely new, deeply unsettling, and frightening for its apparent permanence. Harry seemed old and out of place, walking about the school in a daze, seeming shocked when spoken to. It was as if something in him had died; it seemed as though he no longed cared about anything, and just looking at him filled her with dread for the future. There was an oppressive air of premonition hanging over him, and she couldn't escape the eerie impression that something terrible was going to happen, that he wouldn't be alive much longer. It was inexplicable, and she had never been the type to believe in fate or divination, but nevertheless she was deeply concerned. 

Sirius had felt it too. He had been coming up to the school far more often than seemed justifiable, ostensibly to speak to Professor Dumbledore, but really just to check on Harry. On his last visit, he had taken Hermione aside and asked her to keep an eye on his godson, to write if she had any cause for concern. She had agreed readily enough, but the request had worried her; it had proven that what she had been sensing was not just a figment of her overactive imagination. Harry was truly in trouble, but she could see no way to help him. 

Finally he emerged from one of the side paths winding around the back of the Quidditch stands, a broomstick swinging from one hand. Hermione smiled to herself. If Harry was playing again, that was probably a good sign. Although she wasn't quite sure if she approved of his cutting classes, she knew that Hagrid wouldn't mind. The half-giant was as worried about Harry as Sirius himself was. He would definitely be pleased to hear that Harry was coming out of his depression enough to start thinking about Quidditch again. 

Harry cocked his head curiously as he approached, and she felt a sudden urge to run up and throw her arms around him. He looked so different away from the dull lights of the library, where he would often sit for hour upon hour just staring into nothingness, the notes he had made months ago on necromancy open on the desk before him. His eyes were still shadowed, and his skin was whiter than ground dragon horn, but his gait was lively. He bounced on his heels as he walked, reminding her of the Harry Potter who had almost danced when told that he had a godfather who loved him, who wanted to take him away from the Dursleys. She had missed that boy so much that she longed to rush up and tell him so, but dignity, and a reluctance to let him know how worried she'd been about him (for that would only make him worry about worrying her), made her settle for, "Harry, we're late for class." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders with a preoccupied air, and glanced over at the trees behind her. "Hagrid won't mind. Listen, I've just been flying over the Forbidden Forest, and you won't believe what I saw-" 

"You were _what_?" 

Harry only looked guilty for a second, before continuing. "There's something in there, an animal, I think. It's huge! It's just over there-" He pointed to the thick line of trees that began behind Hagrid's hut, where even now the class was being very noisy about something. "I'm going in for a closer look. The trees were too thick to fly in-" 

He must have caught the look on Hermione's face, for he then asked, "Would you like to come? I suppose Sirius has you following me anyway." 

"No, he doesn't," she replied faintly, but she could see that he was unconvinced. Nevertheless, he didn't look angry, only excited. His irises seemed brighter than she ever remembered seeing them. She looked in his face and saw hope arguing with lines of intense weariness. "Oh, all right," she conceded, "I'll come-" Harry grinned and took her arm, but Hermione didn't move. "After class," she finished, with a conclusive air that she knew he would be powerless to argue with. 

They walked around to join the class, Harry chattering non-stop as they went, "I'm telling you, it was massive. And it had wings, I think, enormous black wings… " He stopped for a moment, thinking, and then turned to her with a serious expression on his pale face. "Hermione, I thought I saw something outside a few weeks ago. I was in the dormitory and there was this storm. I was talking to Neville, and I just saw something outside near the forest… It looked like an animal. It was with Hagrid, and-" As he spoke, Harry's eyes had been looking over at the class, until suddenly they seemed to latch onto something and he went abruptly silent. Hermione turned, and felt her jaw open in surprise. 

It was a winged horse. At least as tall as an elephant, and as rich a brown as the aged staircases in Hogwarts, it raised its head wearily away from the children swarming around it to look directly at Harry. Harry seemed to have frozen in position; his eyes were locked with those of the powerful animal, and but for the closed, thin line of his lips, Hermione would have sworn they were speaking to each other. Amazed, she nudged his arm gently. "Harry, I think it likes you." 

He didn't answer. Indeed, he hardly seemed aware of her presence. Confused, she looked around and was relieved to see Hagrid approaching them with a big smile on his face. "Isn't she somethin'? Knew yeh'd like her." He beamed down at Harry. "Well, Harry? Wha' do yeh think of her, eh?" 

Harry seemed to break out of his trance and blinked dazedly. Hermione smiled at him, waiting for him to start raving about how beautiful the creature was, how big it was, how amazed he was at Hagrid for finding it. So, when all he said was, "I think she's sick," Hermione thought she would scream from the anticlimax. 

Hagrid, however, seemed amazed. "How'd you know that, Harry? I ain't told a soul about her, er, condition." 

"It's pregnant?" Hermione asked. 

"Yeah, she is, poor thing." Hagrid looked over at the creature fondly. "I found her a good while ago out in the forest, badly hurt, but she's on the mend now, thanks ter me. But I ain't told a soul 'bout the little 'un. How'd you know, Harry?" 

"I, er, just did," Harry said, seeming distant, "I guess she just looks pregnant." He was still looking over at the animal. 

"Well, yeh were right, an' no mistake. She's with child, t'aint no doubt about that. Best not ter say anythin' yet, though, ter Dumbledore I mean. These winged 'orses, they get quite violent, yeh see, when they're pregnant, an' he might not want her stayin' on." 

"But if it's dangerous, it really should go," Hermione pointed out, reluctant to hurt Hagrid but knowing that it was necessary. "You remember what Buckbeak did to Malfoy, don't you?" 

"Yeah, well, he was provoked, wasn't he? Poor ol' Beaky… You know he's living in a colony now? Sirius Black's paying for it. Nice of 'im, but I can't stop worrying about the poor beast. I'll have to go visit 'im one o' these days…" 

At that moment the winged horse chose to lift its wings, long mahogany structures covered in downy cream fur, high up in the air. The students gasped and moved back at once, but the animal made no further movement. Instead, it lowered itself down onto the ground like a sphinx, letting its wings pool out to either side, and gazed about. Hermione was captivated by the beauty of the intelligent face, and could see that Harry felt the same way. He was staring at the animal in a kind of fascinated obsession, his free hand twitching as if in deep longing to stroke the soft fur lining the wings. Hermione realised that she couldn't remember when she'd last seen him show such interest in the outside world. It made him look younger, somehow, and less careworn. 

She felt a hand or her arm and turned around to see Ron standing next to her. Ron's eyes travelled from Harry, still lost in fascination with the winged horse, back to herself, and she felt a thrill run through her body, the same thrill she'd been experiencing for the last fifty-seven days, ever since Ron had found the courage to tell her that he loved her. She smiled reassuringly at him, well aware that he was still insecure about seeing her with Harry, and let him lead her away out of earshot of the class. 

They stopped around the side of Hagrid's hut, and kissed. When they drew apart, Ron took her hand in his awkwardly and asked, "Where were you?" 

She sighed. "I was looking for Harry. You know Sirius asked me to." 

"Yeah." He looked away for a moment. "Is he all right?" 

"He's fine." One of the many qualities that Hermione most admired in Ron was the selfless way he could care for others. Even now, when suspicion was warring with the strength of his trust, he was concerned about Harry, but Hermione knew there was more to this consideration than just a kindly nature. Ron and Harry had been the best of friends, and deep down, she knew they still were. The last few months had been difficult, but she felt certain that things were going to be better, especially now that Ron had confessed his feelings for her. As soon as he managed to convince himself of his special role in her life, he would be the kind of friend to Harry that he had always been: brave, generous, and thoughtful. She couldn't wait for that day. 

Ron was looking at her still, admiring as always. Sometimes she felt astounded by the depth of his feelings for her. It wasn't that she didn't love him as much as he loved her; she just wasn't accustomed to being the centre of someone else's life. It was a little unnerving, but occasionally he seemed to relax just a bit, to speak to her in the open, honest tones he had always spoken to her with, and in those moments she felt a kind of contentment and completion in her life that filled her with joy. She supposed their relationship would stay like that once the initial novelty of being together died away. He was still in awe, poor thing, amazed that he could win her heart when Harry Potter was around. Some day, he would get over that. 

"Hermione?" 

Hermione realised she'd been staring, and reluctantly tore herself away from his large, blue eyes. "Hmm?" 

"I got a letter from Mum this morning. She wants to know if you'd like to come over for the Christmas." 

Hermione chuckled lightly. "So she's finally forgiven me for breaking Harry's heart, then?" 

Ron laughed, despite himself. "Don't get too relieved yet; I'm sure she'll give you the whole, "So you've finally decided my Ron is good enough for you," speech. You know, she's very protective of her youngest and most attractive son." 

Hermione raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Oh? So there's a Weasley I haven't met yet, is there?" 

"Very funny." He suddenly looked a little uncomfortable, shuffling his feet nervously. "Look, you know we don't have much money, so it might be a little tight this year, but I think Mum will make an effort to be nice, and Charlie's dying to see you again… I'll understand if you'd rather not-" 

"Ron, I'd love to." 

Ron's mouth opened a little, but he composed himself quickly. He grinned mischievously. "Well, I thought I'd better offer, since I know you won't be able to stand being away from me for an entire month, so if you want to come, I'll let you." 

"You're too kind. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"No, neither do I, " he said mildly. At that moment, a great cheer rose up, distracting them both. Hermione looked over and saw Harry standing awkwardly to one side of the animal enclosure, well away from the exuberant class, as if trying to look invisible. She noticed that Ron was watching him too, a torn expression on his face. Without turning away, Ron voiced what they were both thinking. "What about Harry?" he asked softly. 

Hermione sighed. "Sirius said he'd take him home." 

"But what if Harry doesn't want to go home?" Ron said. To that, Hermione had no answer. 

*** 

Class ended, and Hermione and Ron joined Harry over by the trees. It was almost time for the evening meal, and the first candles were already being illuminated in the larger rooms of the distant castle. The tiny pinpricks of golden light glowed warmly in the twilight, making the three friends shiver in the December chill. They stood casually, trying not to draw any attention to themselves, while Harry explained what he had seen. 

"It seemed really strange because it was in the middle of the night and the rain was battering down. At first, I thought I was imagining things, and then I sort of forgot about it for a while… But I think it must have been Hagrid's horse I saw-" 

"Well, then, case closed, I'd say," Ron said, looking confused. He turned to Hermione for support. "Don't you agree? I mean, what can we possibly hope to achieve by going in there? If we don't get our heads bitten off first, I mean." 

"You're not listening," Harry said. " I saw another one today. Inside the forest! There are two of them. I'm guessing the one in the forest is the father of that baby, or foal, whatever." 

"So, what?" 

"So, he's probably looking for his family, that's what. We should help him-" 

"Why?" Ron demanded, still confused. His teeth chattered in the cold. 

Harry stared at him, a mixture of annoyance and confusion on his face. "Because… He needs our help. We can't just leave him out there. Whatever hurt his mate could hurt him too. And he's probably worried sick about his family…" 

"Harry," Ron said, "they're horses! They don't think like that. Just leave it be; they're used to living in the wild. Besides, what could we possibly do to help? Explain who we are and just hope it follows?" 

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said. "I feel sorry for it, but there's really nothing we can do. If we bring another one of those things back here, Dumbledore will definitely notice." 

Harry shook his head and moved away. "I knew I couldn't count on you. Fine. Just go back to school and do whatever it is you do. But I'm not leaving a defenceless animal in danger." He started to walk off into the trees. 

"Harry!" Ron called, "Don't be like that!" He turned to Hermione in desperation. "We'd better follow him." She nodded in agreement, and they set out into the dim light of the Forbidden Forest. 

*** 

Draco stamped his feet on the frozen earth, partly from the cold, but mainly from frustration. He had little time for House-elves. They were far too cheerful for slaves, and this one was no exception. He had yet to get a coherent response from the annoying little creature, which insisted on bobbing on its feet relentlessly and telling him _how appreciative_ it was that Master Draco had let Dotty keep his job. Dotty's job was Dotty's life, apparently, and serving the Malfoys was the greatest honour in a House-elf's life, whatever some former workers might say. And Master Draco had grown so much in four months! Why, he looked just like his honourable father, Merlin rest his soul… Draco was starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea, after all. 

He had been forced to do something, however. His only regret was that he hadn't acted sooner. The Ministry had been stealing from the Manor for months, ever since his father's death, and Draco had already been making plans to protect what little remained of his fortune. But then the attack on Gringotts occurred, and the Ministry, finding itself almost penniless and in heavy debt, had decided that it was high time to put aside politeness and the law, and go after the Malfoy fortune in force. The elf had already spoken of raids, in which many good House-elves were cruelly hurt, and of the hidden vaults being discovered and later plundered. From what Draco could make out, there was now very little left. And it was so unnecessary! Getting Potter to protect his money had been an ideal solution, but he had waited to approach the boy, preferring instead to work on his plans, to perfect them, to ensure success. He had waited too long. 

It was deeply disappointing. He had been so looking forward to breaking Potter's spirit, to seeing all the boy's strength and morality crumble away to nothing when he learned what he really was. And to know that he, Draco, would be saving his fortune in the process… It was too bad, but perhaps it wasn't over yet. Maybe there was still a fortune worth protecting, after all. If he could just get a straight answer from the confounded House-elf, he'd know what to do. 

"Look, Dotty, just shut up for a minute, right?" 

"… Why, Master Draco, you is looking so pale and grumpy. Is they feeding you at all? Dotty knows how hard it must be now, with all the money gone, but maybe Dotty can get his Totty to make some nice biscuits…" 

"Dotty, shut up!" 

The House-elf blinked and tears sprung up in the enormous eyes. "Oh, Master Draco, Dotty never heard such words… You must be feeling very, very bad, to be saying such things to poor Dotty, who works so hard for his master…" It started weeping uncontrollably, making a lot of noise. Draco looked around the school grounds in horror. "Look, just be quiet! Dotty, if they catch me out here…" 

Dotty seemed to regain some control at that, not wanting to get his precious master into trouble. Draco took advantage of the momentary peace to ask, "Dotty, I need to know how much money is left in the vaults. Can you tell me now, or do you need to go back and check?" 

"No, no, Dotty is knowing, Master Draco. Good master… There is one of the vaults left that they didn't find. Lots of money in there, my Totty is saying, at least four thousand galleons, and lots of pictures, and expensive things…" 

Draco heard no more. His mind was soaring over the possibilities. Four thousand galleons left at home, but in danger of being found at any time. Four thousand! That was worth protecting. Yes, he would do it. He would delay no more. And Potter would be glad to help. 

*** 

It didn't take Harry long to find the winged horse. Somehow he had known exactly where to look, and his instincts had guided him to a small meandering stream not very deep inside the forest. There he found the animal standing alert over the running water, watching. He suspected it had been aware of his approach for it did not start when he rushed in through the foliage to greet it. Instead, it merely continued to observe him placidly, ignoring the two who rushed up in his wake. 

Harry took no notice of Ron or Hermione. He found himself irresistibly drawn to the ebony creature before him that looked so powerful and yet at the same time so vulnerable. Harry understood that perfectly. The horse was alone, separated from his family, who, for all he knew, could be in great danger. He was lost without them, helpless, but unable to cast them from his mind. He was trapped, consigned to wandering the forest until fate intervened to save him. But Harry could help. He would do whatever it took. 

He placed his hand upon the animal's head and stroked lightly. The fur felt warm and soft beneath his touch; it was very comforting. Then, without a word, he turned away in the direction in which he had come. Powerful limbs moved on the mossy ground behind him, and he carried on, taking no notice of the two stunned faces watching him as he went. 

*** 

After the House-elf had left, Draco remained outside, letting the sharp air shape his thoughts into a working plan. He would approach Potter, but when? Tonight? And how would he hold his attention long enough to say everything he wanted to? Potter had a nasty habit of walking away in disgust whenever he was approached by a Slytherin, or more particularly, whenever he was approached by a Malfoy. Draco's father had always said that the best way to get people to listen to you was to make them fear you. For all his father's lunacy, Draco believed they were wise words. He therefore needed something with which to threaten the Harry Potter. 

It wasn't long before the beginnings of a plan came into his mind. The best way to threaten Potter, he knew, was to threaten someone he cared about. Granger? Weasley? No, he didn't know of any way to exploit them, not now that his name held no sway with the Ministry. What about Black? No, while Harry's godfather was definitely an easy weakness to exploit, he didn't want to do anything to offend Sirius Black. Black had given him some good advice once, and well, Draco respected him. Who, then? 

The answer appeared right in front of his eyes. A large half-giant bounding across the grass to the Forbidden Forest, where Harry Potter stood, with- 

Yet another illegal animal! 

*** 

Harry finally understood what his subconscious had been telling him over and over for the last few months. On some level he had known that the creatures needed his help, and now, thanks to him, they were together again. It felt wonderful, bringing them together, and although Ron and Hermione would probably think he was crazy if he admitted it, he knew that the animals were conscious of and grateful for his help. 

As he watched the horses affectionately nuzzling each other in the straw-filled stable, he couldn't suppress the emotions that poured out of him. He felt both sad and elated that fate had intervened to give the horses what they wanted most in the world. On the one hand it made him wonder if there was still hope that he would experience the same fate. But on the other hand, it made him fear that if the chance of it's happening had ever existed, it must have been minutely small and therefore used up by the two creatures before him. It was an irrational fear, but he had long ceased being rational. 

Ron and Hermione were in Hagrid's hut, probably devouring rock-cakes and vegetables. The giant had invited them all in for dinner, being in good humour at the sight of what he called, "The Thestral." Harry had been made to learn that this black variety of winged horse was extremely rare and difficult to see, for they could make themselves invisible and generally avoided humans like the Plague. Hagrid was astonished that it had revealed itself to the children, although Ron and Hermione claimed that they, in fact, hadn't seen it until it had started to walk past with Harry. Harry wondered at that, but said nothing. After drinking a large mug of tea at Hagrid's command, he had gone out to the stables for another look at the horses. And so there he remained, absorbing the touching, beautiful picture before him and wondering if he would ever be so lucky. 

He was so lost in contemplation that he never heard the stable door swing open behind him, nor the soft footfalls of the boy who entered. When the voice came, it shocked him to the core, and he jumped up, backing into one of the posts holding up the meagre structure. The mare whinnied softly in surprise. 

"Well, Potter, this is a sweet image. But where's the other one?" 

Harry blinked in confusion, understanding neither the question, nor the reason Malfoy was creeping up on him now. Their last conversation had been several weeks ago, after the first Quidditch match of the season. Malfoy had threatened him then, saying he knew things about Harry that would horrify him. They hadn't spoken since. 

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" 

Malfoy swaggered across the stable and picked up a whip. He held it in his hands almost lovingly, drawing his fingers down the thin cord; then he looked up at Harry, and smirked. "The other horse, Potter. There's no point in denying it. I saw it with you, and I'm going to tell Professor Dumbledore." 

Only then did Harry realise that the Thestral was missing. So it was true, what Hagrid had said, they really could become invisible. Harry licked his lips in satisfaction. "There's no other horse, Malfoy, you sack of scum. Now go away and stop bothering me." 

"Oh, I'm not finished yet. I don't care if you've hidden that black horse," he said, looking over at the mare. "I have all the evidence I need right here. Somehow I doubt that this animal is registered. Nice talking to you, Potter. I'll have the giant oaf out on his ear within the hour." He moved toward the door. 

"Wait!" Harry snapped. He knew Malfoy was trying to provoke him for some reason, but he had to play along for Hagrid's sake. "Don't do this." 

The blonde-haired boy stopped by the door, and turned around slowly. "Something you wanted to say, Potter?" 

"What's Hagrid ever done to you?" 

Draco smirked. "Nothing, I just enjoy making his life a misery. Of course, I could be persuaded not to…" 

Harry felt like his skin was crawling. Nevertheless, he had to ask. "What? What would it take, Malfoy?" 

"Oh, nothing extreme. I just want you to listen to me." He laughed at the look of complete bewilderment on Harry's face, and gave the whip a short unexpected crack that made Harry jump. "There's something I've been wanting to say to you for a long time, Potter, something that would be very much to your advantage if you only had the brains to listen. It would benefit me too, naturally, or I wouldn't be here." 

"Fine, then. Say what you came to say, and then leave. But I swear, if you get Hagrid into trouble, I'll kill you." 

Harry saw instantly that his words had frightened the other boy, for all Draco's attempts at looking cool and unruffled. And the reason they had scared him, Harry knew, was because they were entirely honest, a warning. 

"You need to learn control, Potter. I've come out here to offer you something wonderful, and all you can do is make threats. Well, let me tell you this: if you ever want to see your beloved parents again, you should listen to me. I'm your only hope." 

Harry's lips went numb, and all he could do was stare. Was this it? Was this the elusive moment he had been waiting for? If so, then it wasn't what he had expected. Of all the miseries he had suffered, why did this, what should have been the greatest, happiest moment of his life, have to be tainted with darkness? It seemed a final insult, and his heart roiled in dismay. Hadn't he suffered enough? Why couldn't fate just give him a break? Of all the people to hold the power over his future happiness, Malfoy had to be the most unbearable. It wasn't fair. It couldn't be true. 

"I see I have your attention. Very well." Malfoy straightened his jacket and sat down on an overturned barrel. "I know you've been trying to find out about necromancy. I also know that you've failed, not surprisingly. But being the son of a Death Eater has its advantages, I can tell you. I've seen many people brought back from the grave; it's one of the things we practitioners of Dark Magic like to do for entertainment. We bring back our deceased enemies and then kill them again. It's great fun, really. You shouldn't knock it till you've tried it." 

Harry felt disgusted, and shifted uneasily, but he had to ask. "Did you ever bring back my parents?" For a moment, he thought he saw something like doubt flicker over the other boy's face, but it was quickly replaced by the habitual smirk. 

"No, Potter, I was joking. I would have thought that was obvious." 

Harry felt himself blush at being so gullible, but he was hardly thinking straight, what with all the strange new revelations he was hearing. 

"We don't really bring people back to life just to kill them," Malfoy explained, as if he were speaking to a four year-old, "and although I said "we" just now, I was really just referring to my parents and their friends. They like to bring back their ancestors to ask for advice on matters of world domination. I was allowed to watch a few times, of course, so I know what it's all about. And even if I didn't know offhand, I could find out easily enough. I still have contacts with what you would regard as, "the wrong sort." And so, I've come to offer you the benefits of my extensive knowledge, in return for a small price." 

Harry had known it was coming, that Malfoy wouldn't offer anything without a price, but while his heart yearned to cry out that he would do anything, his mind reminded him that this was probably all just a cruel joke. Even now, he couldn't dare to think that he might get his parents back. The inevitable truth, when it came, would only fill him with more pain. 

Yet Malfoy's story seemed plausible, now that he thought about it. Necromancy was a practice of dark witches and wizards; that, at least, he had learned from the Hogwarts library. But he wouldn't have found any more information on such a subject in a library controlled by Albus Dumbledore, a man who had been most vocal on his aversion to that particular strand of divination. Dumbledore would not want it in the school. But Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was known for possessing many dark and valuable artefacts. Information on necromancy would surely be more acceptable to him. 

Harry looked at Draco, and asked, "What do you want in return?" He felt like he was selling his soul. 

Draco stood up and turned away. For a while he was silent, probably choosing his next words carefully. Then he spoke. "My father told me some things about you before he died. Some of them you are aware of, but others…" His voice trailed off, probably just for effect, Harry supposed, but he had to admit that he was riveted. "You are Gryffindor's heir," Draco stated. "I understand your mother used a spell on you, to enable you to protect the Penna Potissimus." 

Harry nodded, not sure where the other boy was going with his speech. "Yes, she made me a Secret Keeper, so only I would be able to see it and protect it." 

"There was more to it than that." 

Harry looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?" 

Draco seemed to be relishing his position of power. It made his tone even more smug and superior than usual. "She didn't just make you a Secret Keeper for the Penna Potissimus. There are far more important things to protect than just some old feather. No, she made you a Secret Keeper for the source of all the Light Magic in the universe. The Penna Potissimus is simply a physical representation of that. It was created by some of the first wizards of the Light as a source of worship, but it wasn't until Salazar Slytherin got hold of it that it gained any real power. He enabled it to channel magic directly from the very fountain of magical power in the world, which until then had been unprotected, and it made him the most powerful wizard in the world. But then Gryffindor stole the Penna, and killed Slytherin, and he made his heir a Secret Keeper to protect the Source. The feather would also be protected, since it was a vessel of the Light. 

"Your mother did the same with you; she made you the protector of the Source. That's why you're so bloody invincible. But if you ever die, Potter, then Voldemort will be able to gain control of the Source, as Slytherin once did." 

"I'm not saying I believe you, but why are you telling me this?" 

"I know you have a great deal of money in your vault at Gringotts, and that it wasn't stolen in the break-in. The reason for that, Potter, is that your fortune has in fact been inherited through the Gryffindor line. As long as you're the protector of the Source, it will be protected from the Dark. It seems Godric Gryffindor was a miser as well as a thief, for he made sure of that stipulation in the spell. 

"This is what I want from you, Potter: I want you to protect my money, nothing more. The Ministry has been stealing from me these last few months, and I don't want them to take what little remains. If you agree, you won't have to do anything. Your decision simply to protect it is enough. What do you say? I'll teach you what you need to know to save your parents, and in return you'll protect my money." 

Harry said nothing. Either Malfoy was very mad, or very desperate. Either way, it wouldn't cost him anything to agree to thses terms, and if it gave him even the most remote chance of getting his parents back, then he would do it. "Fine, Malfoy, but I don't believe a word you're saying." 

Malfoy smirked at him in satisfaction. "If you didn't, you would have left ages ago. Like I said, I'm your only hope." 

****** 

A/N: Wow, it took me awhile, didn't it! Sorry about that, and thanks to all the people who emailed me to tell me to hurry up. I'm glad this chapter is behind me because the rest of the fic is much clearer in my head and will be easier to write. In the next part, I will work my way up to the climax, which you might remember was the prologue J. And then, we will have the aftermath. Are Harry and Ginny really dead? And what about poor old Voldemort? Well, that's two chapters away at least so I won't go there yet. I'll try not to take forever with it too. Okay, I think that's all I have to say. Oh yeah, I love reviews! Don't forget! Also you can send feedback to keeganlm@yahoo.com. And thanks to Lin-z for the beta. If you haven't read her stuff, I would seriously suggest that you do so now. She's a great writer. Well, till next year (just kidding, or am I!), 

Pleiades (January 28th, 2002). 

  



	6. The Work Begins

Author's Note: God, I'm so sorry this took so long. I'd say nobody is still reading this, but just in case, I thought I'd better post this new chapter just to prove I haven't given up. I just hate leaving anything unfinished, you see, so here it is. I'll finish this fic up soon, so I can get my new story posted (which I'm working very hard on right now). Please, if you are still reading this, let me know by posting a review (good, bad, or indifferent). I'd just really like to know if there is **anyone** out there! Lol. 

A quick reminder of the story so far: Azkaban has mysteriously fallen down, burying Harry and Ginny, who are apparently dead, and now Sirius and Ron too, who may be alive. A rescue operation is underway. In the past: Professor Dumbledore magically locked the entrance to the Restricted Section of the library to stop Harry researching necromancy. So Draco and Harry made a deal. Harry has to protect Draco's fortune (although Harry doesn't fully understand how he can do this. All he knows is that it has something to do with his being a Secret Keeper), and in return, Draco will promise not to tell anyone about Hagrid's latest pets and he will show Harry how to resurrect his parents. Ron and Hermione are now a couple. Ginny has been having strange dreams about Harry. Harry refuses to give her the time of day.

Lux Aeterna: Chapter Five - The Work Begins

Remus exerted all his concentration on the large, grey boulder floating before him, moving it slowly to one side, and then letting it down gently on the ground a short distance away. It landed neatly and securely with a dull thud, sending up a small cloud of brown dust at its base. With weary satisfaction, Remus turned around and levitated the next lump of rock in his path.

The same monotonous task had consumed him for the last fifteen hours, ever since Sirius and Ron had abandoned the Aurors to race back into the rubble of Azkaban to retrieve the bodies of their loved-ones. The work was exhausting, the effort of trying to clear a path into the debris proceeding only slowly on account of the air being so thick with dust. But the Aurors refused to give up. Remus was certain his lungs were filling with dirt, but concern for his friends, and the certainty that if they weren't found soon they would be buried by the unstable structure kept him going.

Remus aimed his wand at the next boulder and said, "_Wingardium leviosa!_" The rock instantly rose up from the ground, and Remus guided it carefully to one side, trying to ignore the ache that travelled up his tired wand-arm at the action.

Neither he nor his colleagues had slept for twenty-four hours, and the weariness was beginning to tell. They were all slowing down, lulled into a passive sort of motion both by their own exhaustion and by the greenhouse effect of the dust around them that was trapping the last rays of the sun and making them feel warm and sleepy. 

Help had arrived from the Wizarding Emergency Services, but most of the Aurors felt too personally involved with the situation to leave the work to their more qualified colleagues. Besides, the Emergency Wizards needed all the help they could get. Their resources had apparently been stretched to the limit by the baffling plethora of emergencies that had coincided with the destruction of Azkaban, among them the collapse of an entire block of buildings on Knockturn Alley in London.

The news was bizarre, but Remus had no time to dwell on the strange events that had been taking place across the country. His concern for his friends had been rising with every passing minute, and now he had yet another fear. Dusk was falling, and it wouldn't be long before the full moon rose and the wolf took hold. He knew he would have to leave soon, and make for the confines of the cage he kept in the cellar of his house near Cornwall, but he desperately wanted to see some progress made before he left.

His arm was really starting to ache now, but as he moved another rock, Remus had to concede that he was lucky, really. Normally he would feel far worse on the day of the full moon. And he hadn't even slept in twenty-four hours! Perhaps the adrenaline in his system was preventing him from feeling as ill as he should. No doubt it would all hit him in an hour or so. Still, he hoped the transformation wouldn't be too painful.

An enormous boulder lay ahead, and Remus knew he wouldn't be able to shift it on his own. To his right he caught a glimpse of Mira McGonagall, and she nodded in affirmation. Together they pointed their wands at the large obstruction, and said, "_Wingardium leviosa!_" The rock lifted slightly, but refused to rise any higher. It then dropped back to earth with a loud crash.

Several frustrating attempts later, and a large crowd had gathered by the huge rock. Remus laughed inwardly every time another person would arrive on the scene assuming that he was in some way incompetent and then try to show him how it was done. All of them failed, of course, but it was funny to see it happen time and time again. Finally, he suggested that they all try to lift it together simultaneously. Somewhat abashed, they agreed, and Remus hurried to gather as many people as possible for the spell. The sun was barely visible on the horizon now, but he had no intention of leaving until the irritating lump of rock was beaten.

Together, the witches and wizards cast the Levitation Charm on the rock. Slowly it rose up off the ground and hovered in place. "All right," McGonagall boomed, "Move it over to the left!" Two dozen wands slowly moved to the left, guiding the floating boulder. There was an agonising moment as it seemed to tremble too near the path, threatening to fall, but gradually the magic re-asserted its power over the article, and it moved to the desired touchdown area.

Remus wiped his brow in relief. "Great. Thanks, everyone. That worked really well." The others returned to their own areas, mumbling replies that were inaudible.

McGonagall grinned at him. "I think they just said, 'You're welcome.'"

"Either that," Remus quipped, laughing "or, 'Go to hell'." He turned back to where the boulder had blocked his path before. A cave now stood in front of him, its entrance newly revealed by the removal of the large rock. As he stepped closer to investigate, he heard McGonagall approach from behind. Then she gasped, and jumped in delight. "This is it!" she exclaimed. "This is where they ran off. The Weasley boy was trapped under those rocks there," she said, pointing.

"That's great," Remus replied, feeling hopeful at last. "We'll find them in no time. The Throne Room can't be far from here, and I'm sure that's where Sirius would have gone to find Harry." He rubbed his arm absently, thinking. "Damn! I wish I could stay a bit longer. We're so close now."

Mira clucked sympathetically. "Don't worry, we'll find them. She looked him up and down, considering. "Look, there's no need for you to come straight back tomorrow. Rest up first. Sirius is going to need your support in the days ahead."

Remus nodded sadly. "Yeah, this is going to be really hard on him. Knowing Sirius he'll think this is something he needs to feel guilty about. But I'll try to get here early. It's the least I can do for him… I'd better go now. The full moon will be-"

Remus looked up at the sky, and received the greatest shock of his life, more astonishing than the news that the baby Harry Potter had survived an attack from the Dark Lord. For there, shining brightly through the dark brown haze above, just as he remembered it from his childhood, was the full moon. And he hadn't transformed.

***

__

Three months earlier…

Harry stood on the granite steps outside the main entrance of Hogwarts, watching impatiently as students clambered into the horseless carriages lined up on the gravel path below. The wide, sweeping lawn of Hogwarts stretched out before him like a carpet, drawing his gaze down toward the Great Lake which moved restlessly in the distance, its dull surface marked with stiff, angular ripples that sheared the grey mass like an army of silver knives. The sky above was a lighter shade of grey. 

All in all, Harry had to admit it was rather a bland, uninteresting day, the kind that is never shown on picture postcards but which you know to be the unpleasant, inevitable reality of a place. Not quite what you'd expect or hope of the Scottish Highlands at Christmas time, but inarguably real. Harry supposed he should be content with that. There was much to be said for truth and honesty, after all.

But he wasn't content. The miserable, damp picture of the Hogwarts countryside served merely to remind him of the cold, bleak place that his thoughts now habituated. It was further proof of his certainty that the world would never, absolutely never, give him what he hoped for. Disappointment was inevitable, and no matter how deserving he felt he was, fate simply wouldn't deliver what he needed. He wasn't going to get his parents back just by hoping for it, or by suffering just enough that a positive turn would seem bound to follow. It simply wouldn't happen, and it was time to accept that.

Yet he couldn't help but long for something special to happen. The miracle of seeing his dreams translate into reality occupied his thoughts daily. He'd earned it, surely. Was it too much to ask for what everyone else received as a matter of course? 

All he had ever wanted was to know his parents; he had never dreamed of anything more elaborate than that. While some boys fantasised about buying Ferraris, playing for the national football team, or marrying an attractive blonde, Harry had only ever wondered what it would be like to live with his own family. That luxury had been denied him, and he had accepted it. For years he had lived with the complete certainty that death was irreversible. He had never presumed to ask for anything more.

Then he had discovered magic, and it offered up all sorts of possibilities. The ultimate possibility, the one he was now certain all his years at Hogwarts had been leading up to, was necromancy. Everyone said it was unspeakably monstrous, that it left a terrible mark on the souls of those it touched. They had told him to forget about it, even after he had held his mother for one precious moment and breathed in the warm scent of her hair. They had told him it would destroy him. 

Maybe it would destroy him, but he had to at least try. The guilt of not trying would hurt him far more than the sting of failure. That was why he had decided to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, and not take up Sirius and Arabella's invitation to Privet Lawns.

Staying behind hadn't been an easy decision to make. He was tired, worn down by the refusal of every adult figure in his life to assist him in his efforts to save his parents. They had hindered him every step of the way, drove him close to despair by refusing to help. They had even charmed the entrance to the Restricted Section of the library to prevent him entering. They had exhausted him, crushed almost all his hope and spirit. When Malfoy had approached him in the stables near Hagrid's hut, Harry had been on the verge of giving up. It hadn't been easy finding the energy or the inclination to continue, especially when the figure that had miraculously appeared to solve all his problems was the least trustworthy individual Harry had ever had the misfortune of knowing.

He would have loved to go home for Christmas. The thought of spending a nice, normal, quiet Christmas with family was very attractive to him, especially after the difficulties of the last few months. Sirius and Arabella had promised him a Christmas tree, a proper turkey dinner and presents. It would have been wonderful, almost like having a real family. Almost.

But there were other incentives for going home too. Harry still felt that he needed to clear the air with Sirius, and the holidays would have offered him the perfect opportunity to do so. Their argument over Harry's fixation with necromancy, and the dangers of Sirius' profession, had almost destroyed their friendship. And however much Harry wanted his parents back, he couldn't bear the thought of Sirius hating or resenting him in any way. Sirius had been there for him through thick and thin, and he could never forget that. He loved Sirius, almost like a brother, he supposed, and desperately craved the elder man's reassurance that he hadn't lost his good opinion forever. It was hard to say now when he would ever get the chance to clear the air.

Deep down, however, Harry was also conscious that going home would symbolise, both to himself and to his godparents, that he was giving up. While he almost felt tired and discouraged enough to do so, he just couldn't, not when there was even the slightest chance of saving his Mum and Dad. He wasn't ready to concede failure yet. 

Besides, he told himself, this would be the final attempt. If Malfoy proved once again to be a liar, then Harry would stop trying to succeed on his own, at least for awhile. The thought of spending another year obsessing over his dead parents was just too horrible to imagine. He was tired of all that, and it had got him nowhere. 

But maybe this time he would succeed…

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily, and consciously forced himself to relax. He had to look normal for Ron and Hermione so they wouldn't suspect anything. They were upstairs finishing the last of their packing, but would be leaving soon for The Burrow. Harry didn't want them worrying about him over the holidays. They deserved a break from the non-stop craziness of being friends of famous Harry Potter. Now that they were so happy together, finally 'a couple', he was sure they'd have a wonderful time without him over the holidays. The last thing they needed was more agony over their psychotic friend.

Once again he reminded himself that this would be it, the last attempt, the final gulp of air before reaching the pool wall. He was relieved that it would all be over soon. He would just put whatever energy he had left into this one last, desperate effort, and if he failed, then at least he would know that he had done his best. When it was all over everything would get back to normal. He'd play chess with Ron, maybe get some work done for the O.W.L.s with Hermione. It would be just like old times, and people would stop worrying about him.

It was a real nuisance, being worried about. Sirius was bad enough, but Harry now suspected that his godfather had coaxed Hermione and Ron into spying for him. Between the three of them, Professor Dumbledore, and Ginny Weasley of all people, Harry could hardly sneeze without being asked about it. It was all very irritating, which was why Malfoy had refused to work with him until the holidays began, when most of the students would be absent.

The Slytherin boy was adamant about the need for complete privacy. He was terrified of being seen practising the Dark Arts by any of the teachers. Harry knew that the Ministry had given him a lot of trouble lately, especially following the mysterious disappearance of the remains of his inheritance. Being seen practising Dark Magic would only serve to make his situation worse, so the need for discretion had forced them to wait until the Christmas holidays. It made sense in a paranoid, Slytherin kind of way, but Harry resented the fact that he had been forced to give up his only chance to see his godparents, and to face the unpleasant possibility that Malfoy had been lying about his abilities.

The sight of his two friends standing near one of the carriages broke Harry's train of thought, and he listened somewhat enviously to their lighthearted banter. Ron and Hermione looked so happy together, so comfortable with each other. They hardly even argued anymore. Harry supposed it was just the novelty of being a couple that was making them go out of their way to be so agreeable to each other. No doubt they would revert to their usual selves in a month or two. 

Plastering a fake smile over his face, Harry walked up behind Ron and helped him lift his trunk into the carriage. "All set?" he asked, nodding at Hermione as she moved away to help Lavender Brown with her vanity case.

"Yeah, I think that's everything," Ron replied. "I almost forgot Pig, but then I found him stuffed under my pillow." Laughing Ron pulled the tiny ball of feathers out of his pocket. Pigwidgeon looked around tiredly before lifting his wing over his head and going back to sleep.

"What's wrong with him? He usually has more energy than that," Harry said, poking the immobile bird with his finger.

Ron looked a little guilty. "I used him to send a letter to Mum yesterday, and he, em, just got back from Hermione's place." Catching the knowing smile on Harry's face, he quickly tried to defend himself, "Well, her parents didn't know the address to send her presents to. I couldn't very well leave her without presents on Christmas morning, now, could I?"

"Oh, I'm sure you would have thought of something," Harry said significantly.

Ron blinked at him before finally understanding. "Oh, go away, Harry! You're worse than Fred and George. You're filthy, the lot of you. Honestly."

Harry laughed. "Yeah. Maybe that's why we're so useless with the ladies."

"Well, Fred and George may be useless, but you're not," Ron said, patting him on the shoulder. Harry looked at him curiously. "Didn't you hear?" Ron asked, smiling archly, "Ginny's staying at Hogwarts for Christmas too. Now I wonder why that could be..."

"Ginny's staying," Harry gasped, horrified. "Oh, no. No. She can't be."

Ron put his hands on his hips. His expression struggled between amusement and accusation. "Look, Harry, we both know she has a crush on you, but if you say one thing to hurt her feelings, I swear I'll-"

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "No, no, Ron, I didn't mean it like that."

Ron said nothing.

Harry stepped forward and spoke quietly and placatingly. "You know I'd never say anything to hurt her. I just thought that I was the only Gryffindor staying behind. If Ginny's there too, it'll be… awkward. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I suppose. I just, well, don't want her to get hurt. I'm kind of responsible for her."

Harry nodded emphatically. "I know. And I won't hurt her. I promise."

"Good, I'll hold you to that, because the last thing I need is Mum on my back again, telling me to _look after your sister_," Ron said, grinning as Harry laughed at his impersonation of his mother's voice. Ron climbed up into the carriage and looked fondly back at the school. "I sometimes forget how impressive it is," he said, pointing up at the enormous towers above. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry just smiled. It looked grey and dull to him. He supposed everything looked nice when you were in love.

"I suppose we'll be leaving soon. Where'd Hermione get to?"

Harry looked around. "I think she's helping Lavender bring all her bags down."

"Oh," Ron said, looking disappointed. "Hey, Harry, won't you get bored here all Christmas by yourself?"

Harry smiled softly. "I'll have Ginny."

"True. But, seriously. What are you going to do?"

"Study, mostly," Harry said, looking around. "Maybe practice some new Quidditch moves."

Ron sat up suddenly, making Harry turn, and asked quietly, "You're not planning on reading up on that, em, necromancy stuff, are you? Please tell me you're not."

Harry tried to look genuine. "Of course, not. How can I, now that they've charmed the library?"

Ron looked unconvinced. "I know you. You always find a way…"

"I'm just going to study, Ron. It'll be nice to have the tower to myself. Well, practically to myself."

"Mmmm." Ron's face lit up with a smile as he saw Hermione running down the steps towards them. She looked thoroughly annoyed.

Hermione leapt up into the carriage beside Ron. "Can you believe Lavender Brown?" she said angrily. "Five trunks! Five! And they're all bigger than mine are. _And_ she had to pack two vanity cases and a full-length mirror. It shouldn't be allowed. As a prefect, I'm going to lodge an official complaint with Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure she'll take up all the space in the luggage compartment too, and-"

Ron winked at Harry before turning back to Hermione. "She didn't thank you for helping her, did she?"

Hermione stopped in mid-sentence, looking annoyed at the interruption to her scathing monologue on Lavender Brown's excessive luggage. "No, but that's not the point…"

Ron and Harry started laughing. 

All at once, the line of carriages started moving slowly down the gravel path. Harry walked alongside Ron and Hermione's carriage, saying goodbye.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said quickly as they approached the exit of the castle grounds, "Do be careful. I heard Draco Malfoy isn't going home this Christmas. Lavender said he's staying here so the Ministry can't get to him."

"They'd probably arrest him if he left," Ron said thoughtfully. "Wouldn't that be great?"

Hermione grinned, but quickly became serious. "Be careful, Harry. Just stay away from him, and there won't be any trouble."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I will. Now have a good Christmas. And don't forget to send me a photo of Ron in his Weasley jumper!"

Hermione giggled. 

"Bye!" she and Ron called happily as the carriages passed through the castle gates, leaving Harry behind.

Harry stopped at the gates, waving back at his two friends. He wondered if the next time he saw them, he'd be introducing them to his parents once again. 

***

__

One week later…

Sirius sat on the living-room floor of his home in Privet Lawns, trying hard to keep his patience as he conversed with the Minister of Magic, whose head was sitting in the fire, looking wide-awake and furious. 

"Minister, I'm telling you," Sirius explained, "It's gone. Vanished. Not a trace of it anywhere in the house."

"Are you certain you checked all the vaults?"

"Yes. A dozen times, at least. It's not there."

"Mr Black," Algie Longbottom said, with a trace of exasperation creeping into his voice, "it was there three weeks ago. You told me yourself. How can it have just vanished?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it."

"Did you question the boy?"

"Draco?" 

The minister nodded.

Sirius didn't reply at once. He was a little confused that the Minister of Magic, a man supposedly well versed in the law, was asking him if he had interrogated a sixteen year old boy. Surely that was illegal. Finally Sirius cleared his throat. "No, Minister. I was under the impression that it was illegal to interrogate a minor."

Algie Longbottom glared at him. "I never said anything about interrogating him. Just go to the boy and ask him where he's hidden his father's money. Simple as that. I'm sure you can manage it, considering your past dealings with him."

Sirius sighed deeply. The last time he had spoken to Draco Malfoy was on a pier at Azkaban. Draco had confided in him, trusted him enough to talk about his future. But for that conversation, Draco would have become a Death Eater, and Sirius, Arabella, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape would now be dead. Draco had saved all their lives, returning them safely to Hogwarts via a Portkey. Sirius was reluctant to betray the boy he owed his life to. "Minister, is there really any point in hassling the kid? I mean, he couldn't possibly have hidden it. Albus assures me Draco hasn't left the school recently."

"He could have had outside help. I want you to go to Hogwarts today, and ask him about it-"

"Minister, perhaps it would be better if-"

"Let me finish, Mr Black. You are to ask him where he's hidden it. If he refuses to tell, or if he feigns ignorance, threaten him with imprisonment. I'm sure I can arrange it if need be. The little worm deserves a bit of a fright."

"He's just a child."

The minister eyed him severely. "Don't let yourself be fooled, Black. These Malfoys are trouble. That kid is going to turn out just like his father, mark my words. We have to stamp him down now, while we still can."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind. He didn't know Draco Malfoy very well, but the boy had saved his life once, along with the lives of almost everyone he cared about. Harry seemed to think he was evil, but Sirius preferred to think that anyone could redeem themself. Draco was just a child, after all. There was no telling how he'd turn out.

"Minister, I was going to suggest talking to the servants before taking any action with the boy. It might not be necessary to-"

"Mr Black, I gave you your orders. You are to question Draco Malfoy today. And need I point out that you were the last and only person seen in Malfoy Manor before the gold disappeared? It doesn't look good, I can tell you. Some would say it looks downright suspicious. I can only protect you so far. Good day to you."

The face vanished from the flames, and Sirius sat back, astonished.

***

The floor of the fifth year Gryffindor boy's dormitory was littered with pieces of parchment, open bottles, and squashed bits of root. In the centre, sitting on a waist-high pedestal was Harry's standard size two pewter cauldron, and nearby, sitting on the floor and cursing over a too-small pestle and mortar, was Harry himself. 

Posing by the gothic window, dressed in his finest black robes, and twirling his wand around in his fingers like a baton, was Draco Malfoy. He was singing, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," to himself over and over, just because he didn't know all the words, and because he knew it was driving Harry mad. 

Harry could feel the other boy's eyes boring into the back of his skull as he worked, even as the haunting tones of, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," continued to grate on his ears. It was unnerving to say the least. He kept expecting to feel the cool, sharp tip of a wand against his neck at any moment, but surprisingly it never came. 

As he ground up the last of the smelly roots they had collected for the potion, the melody finally stopped and he heard Malfoy ask, "Are you done yet, Potter? You've been at it all morning. I can't believe you make grinding roots look so complicated. But then again, this is you we're talking about."

"I'm finished now," Harry replied with forced calm. "I'd like to see you sit and inhale this stuff for three hours. The least you can do is tell me what the hell it's for."

"I wouldn't want to confuse you, Potter."

"Haha," Harry said flatly. "Come on, Malfoy. For all I know, you could be making me do this just for the cheap thrill of it. What's it really for?"

"It's to go into an Enriching Potion for Weasley, since his family lost their entire fortune. Two Knuts, they lost, wasn't it?"

Harry turned around to glare at the other boy. Malfoy was such a pain. Here they were, alone, forced to work together for at least a fortnight, and Malfoy insisted on making things difficult. It was so typical.

Deliberately ignoring the other boy's last comment, Harry picked up his bowl of crushed roots. "What do you want me to do with these?" he asked, idly thinking of the many uses that sprang immediately to mind.

Malfoy pointed to the small cauldron sitting in the centre of the room.

Harry poured the roots in on top of the other ingredients, and waited. He knew he'd have to ask Malfoy what to do next, but was trying to put if off as long as possible. Malfoy never offered information. Everything Harry wanted to know, he had to ask, and it was getting very annoying.

He was spared from having to speak up, however, as Malfoy himself cast a distraction, crossing the room to Ron's bed, and tearing down one of the many pictures of the Chudley Canons from the wall. He held it in his hands and looked down at it, shaking his head in mock reproach. "What is it about Weasley?" he asked. "Everything about him is inferior, even the one thing in his miserable little life he can change: his favourite Quidditch team. The Chudley Cannons! It's pathetic."

Harry stood up and snatched the picture off him. "Leave Ron's stuff alone, Malfoy, or we can filthy up your dormitory instead. I'm sure I'd love to look through Goyle's things, and see his collection of women's underwear."

"Yes, that would be right up your alley, wouldn't it, Potter?" Malfoy deadpanned, moving on to Neville's bed. "Who sleeps here?" he asked, grimacing at the heap of empty Chocolate Frog wrappers lying on the floor next to it.

"Neville."

"Oh yes, Longbottom, of course. Greedy little pig, isn't he?"

Harry didn't answer, but began picking up the bits of root and parchment littering the area he had been working in.

"And this is Finnegan's bed," Malfoy observed, moving on.

Harry stared at him. "How did you know that was Seamus' bed?"

"Oh, same way you know about Goyle's collection of women's underwear, I suppose," he replied, smiling darkly.

"You've been in here before!" Harry exclaimed, horrified. "When?"

Draco merely looked at him before moving on to the next bed. "And this is yours, isn't it, Potter? Hmmm. I suppose Weasley made you put up these stupid pictures of his Quidditch team. Shall I tear them down for you?" 

"No!" Harry exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. "Just get the hell away from my stuff, Malfoy! Get over here!"

Obediently, and looking completely nonplussed, Draco moved back to the centre of the room. He looked down into the cauldron and winced at the smell. "Yuck! Smells just like Weasley's pillow."

"Cut it out," Harry snapped. 

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit, Potter. I mean, I do have to work with you for the next two weeks."

"Don't remind me. And you're not lightening the mood. You're deliberately trying to provoke me."

Draco smiled serenely. "I didn't say I was lightening it for _you_, Potter. From where I'm standing you've got the sweetest part of the deal. You get to spend time with me. I, on the other hand-"

"Oh, shut up."

"Fine, then," Draco snapped, sitting down petulantly on the end of Harry's bed. The action reminded Harry very much of one of the few occasions when he had seen a spoiled Dudley Dursley being reprimanded by his parents. Draco glared at him. "But I still say it smells like Weasley's pillow."

Harry groaned, and reminded himself that he had known all along that resurrecting his parents would be a long and arduous undertaking.

***

__

Two days later…

Ginny put down the book she had been reading and glanced around the deserted Hogwarts Library. It was eerily quiet in the old, musty room, with most of the students having gone home a few days earlier. Even Madam Pince was absent, off on some errand or other. Since the start of the school holidays, only an occasional Ravenclaw student had been in to break up the dead silence with the gentle flutter of pages turning or with the pleasant echo of tough leather volumes being stacked on wooden desks. 

Now, however, Ginny found herself alone, and it was making her feel paranoid. No matter how hard she tried to immerse herself in the text on Locking Charms, she kept being distracted by a feeling of being watched. The sensation was getting stronger than ever, and she found herself regretting the absence of the many students that would normally be sitting around chatting and breaking her concentration. Anything would have been better than the creepy feeling of being watched from the shadows. And was it her imagination, or had the air suddenly become much cooler?

Shuddering, she tried to turn her attention back to the book in front of her, but her mind refused to focus. Something within her just hadn't felt right lately. The strange fits of coldness, the dreams about Harry, in which she found herself in a panic for his safety, the paranoia she was feeling now… Somehow it all seemed to be connected. Ultimately, every one of her thoughts came back to Harry, every single thread she pursued involved him, but what he had to do with her paranoia and general insanity was anyone's guess. She just couldn't understand it.

It would have been nice to talk to someone about it. In years past, she would have turned to Percy. He had always understood her much better than Fred and George, or even Ron, ever could. He had always given her sensible, practical advice rather than meaningless sympathy, and that was something she missed terribly. Now, however, he was dead, and she couldn't turn to Ron or Hermione either, since they were at home. Fred and George were gone too. So there was absolutely no one she could turn to for advice.

Of course, Harry would have been the ideal person to talk to, but he had made it quite clear that he wanted to be left alone. He hadn't said a word to her since the beginning of the Christmas holidays, even though they were the only two people staying in Gryffindor Tower and he looked utterly miserable. 

It would have been nice simply to chat to him. She was curious to know why he wasn't spending any more time in the library. Even with the lock on the Restricted Section, there was no reason why he couldn't continue his research in the General Section. He had seemed so focused, so dedicated to bringing back his parents that she couldn't understand why he suddenly seemed to have given up. And she missed not being able to watch him while working in the library. It was inspiring to see him work so hard for something he believed in.

If only he'd been more willing to talk to her, she could have cheered him up too. She had already made progress on finding out about the lock on the Restricted Section, and was certain that she was close to finding out how to remove it. Together, she and Harry could succeed much sooner. But Harry didn't want to speak to her, didn't want to even acknowledge her existence. He didn't want her help, and certainly didn't want to help her. It hurt.

She tried to tell herself that he was suffering, far more than she was, and that was why he wanted to be alone. He had been forced to give up all hope of saving his parents, his exams were fast approaching, he was worried about the dangers of his godfather's profession, his best friend's little sister had a crush on him… No wonder he was upset. And to make matters worse, he had been forced to endure Professor Trelawney's impressive impersonation of his dead mother. Yes, Harry was definitely worse off than she was. It would be selfish to add to his troubles.

And so she was alone, with nobody to turn to, and the walls of the library were feeling oppressive and all too watchful. She looked around again. Still alone. Shivering in the coolness of the room, she hugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, and looked down at her book. She had to be close to a solution. There were only so many Locking Charms, after all. 

A gust of icy air blew past her, and she yelped softly in dismay as the pages turned. Her hands flew up to stop them, but halted in mid-air as suspicion crept over her. Instead, she let the pages turn, and watched in fascination as they continued to flick over, one after another. She swallowed hard at the realisation that the pages were moving of their own volition; there was no longer any draft in the room at all. The turning finally stopped, and she looked down, and read, "_The Portal Charm. The Simple Solution to Any Locked Door. Why struggle with complicated locks, when you can create a new, unlocked door? By skilled plumber and handyman Burgle R. Kleptes._"

Ginny smiled and whispered, "Thank you."

***

"Ah, Sirius, do come in," Dumbledore said, shaking hands with the other man. "I'm glad you're here. Harry has been behaving most strangely." He gestured to the vacant seat before his desk, and moved around to sit down. "Please have a seat. Yes, as I was saying, I think perhaps it would be a good idea for you to speak with your godson. You might even be able to persuade him to go home for the Christmas. It really would do him a world of good to get away from the school for awhile."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I was hoping he would change his mind about that. But what do you mean when you see he's been behaving strangely? More strangely than usual, then?"

A sad smile passed over the old headmaster's face. "I'm afraid so. He has not been back to the library since we charmed the Restricted Section. Now, I took that as a positive sign," Dumbledore said, sighing, "But recently, I have begun to have some other misgivings. It would appear that he is spending a considerable amount of time in the Slytherin dungeons, I suspect with Draco Malfoy. It may be that they have simply overcome their past dislike for one another and are now friends-"

"Pah!" Sirius interjected. "As if!"

"Yes, quite. Or the Malfoy boy is assisting him in his efforts to resurrect Lily and James, no doubt for some considerable price. The latter does seem more likely."

"Damn. I'll talk to him, Albus. Actually, I'll talk to Draco too, since he's the reason I came here in the first place."

Albus observed him curiously. "Oh?"

"I have to ask him some questions about his father's money," Sirius explained. "It would appear that what's left of it has mysteriously vanished from the manor's vaults."

"How mysterious," Albus remarked dryly.

"Yes, and if I don't find it, Algie Longbottom is going to implicate me in its theft."

Dumbledore eyed him seriously. "Well, Sirius, I can't say that I know where the money is, but I will tell you this: as clever as the Malfoy boy is, and as determined as I'm sure he was to hide it, there's no way he would have been capable of a Concealment Charm powerful enough to get past the Ministry's watch on the place. He didn't do it."

"Then who did?" Sirius asked, concerned.

Dumbledore shook his head, but gave no reply.

***

It only took a moment for Ginny to charm the wall separating the main section of the Hogwarts Library from the adjoining Restricted Section, creating a new door. The absence of any onlookers made the job a lot easier, but just to be on the safe side, she cast an Invisibility Spell over the new entrance. Instantly it vanished from sight, leaving the original, uninteresting wall in its place.

Delighted, she clapped her hands together and ran to gather her books, thinking only of finding Harry and telling him the good news, but then, just as she was stuffing the last of her books into her satchel, another thought occurred to her. If she showed Harry the new entrance, it was likely that he would just thank her, use it, and then go back to ignoring her again. But if she used it herself, and discovered how to resurrect his parents, then he would love her for the rest of his life. It would be the greatest gift she could possibly give him. To see his face light up with joy, and to know that she was the cause of that joy, would be like a dream come true. 

She was certain she could do it. How hard could it be? And if she succeeded… Harry would take her seriously, respect her as much as he respected Hermione. He would stop thinking of her as a silly, shy, little girl. He would actually fall in love with her, just as she had always dreamed.

In that instant, she made up her mind, and passed through the invisible door to the Restricted Section. A gust of cold air followed her.

***

It was with a deep sense of foreboding that Sirius left Professor Dumbledore's office later that afternoon and went in search of Draco Malfoy. The headmaster's thoughtful silence throughout their conversation, and more particularly his calculated refusal to discuss who he suspected was responsible for the disappearance of the Malfoy fortune, had struck him as deeply ominous. Dumbledore knew far more than he was revealing, and Sirius suspected that somewhere deep in the old man's mind, a connection was forming between the disappearance of the gold and Harry's new 'friendship' with Draco.

Sirius knew that it wasn't unusual for Dumbledore to keep his cards close to his chest, and whenever he did, it was generally for the right reasons. Nevertheless, it was a deeply worrying sign, especially if Harry was involved. 

Looking down at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, Sirius sighed and quickened his step, all the while praying that the Malfoy boy would be willing to talk.

***

Alone in Gryffindor Tower, Harry took advantage of the silence and the privacy to begin work on some of the more technical aspects of the Necromancy Spell. A date had to be set, and that was easier said than done. There were astronomical considerations to be taken into account (a new moon was vital), and certain planetary configurations were thought to make for a more powerful spell. If he could find a day when Jupiter and Mars would be in line with the Earth and the sun, then his chances of success would increase markedly, or so Malfoy insisted. 

Harry spread his star charts out over his bed, and began pouring over the dates. The nearest new moon was in ten days, on January second, but the planets would not be configured favourably on that day. Disappointed, Harry moved on to check the next new moon, just over a month away. Again, the planets weren't favourable. He moved on to the next…

***

The corridor to the Slytherin common room terminated in a plain, stone wall, which Sirius fondly remembered from his own days as a young student at Hogwarts. It seemed a very long time since he had last crept down to the dungeons with James and Remus, and sometimes Peter too, looking for ways to sneak inside or boobytrap the entrance. Smiling softly at the happy memories, he ran his fingers along the familiar brickwork, feeling for a long, arrow-shaped crack. His fingers rested upon it almost immediately, and he felt inside. A single piece of antler, still smooth, was lodged inside. Sirius tickled it lightly, and the door to the Slytherin common room opened before him. Ah, he thought, happy memories, and he entered, trying not to laugh at the look of shock on Draco Malfoy's face. 

***

Harry smiled wistfully to himself. On the fourth of April he would have his parents back. It was the perfect day to attempt the spell: there would be a new moon, plus all nine planets would be in alignment with the sun... It was even better than he could have hoped for. It was a long wait, but the time in between would be used constructively. He would use it to make sure than everything would be perfect for the big day. Nothing would go wrong.

Harry wiped back the tear that crept from the corner of his eye, and began collecting the various star charts and books laid out before him. His hands stopped on a very familiar and much used-looking piece of parchment, The Marauder's Map. Sirius had owled it back to him before the holidays, along with his Pensieve. By force of recent habit, his eyes were drawn to the Slytherin dungeons, and he immediately saw that something was wrong. Instead of just the one name he had become used to seeing in that portion of the castle, there were two. Sirius was in the dungeons with Draco.

Cold fear settled around Harry's heart. If Sirius was talking to Draco, then he must have found out about their deal, or at least begun to suspect something. If he found out, he would ruin everything. In a panic, Harry dropped the Marauder's Map onto the floor, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from his chest, and ran from the room. He had to hear their conversation, he had to find a way to stop Draco from telling Sirius too much.

***

Ginny moved silently between the long rows of shelving that held the ancient texts of the Restricted Section. She had never been in this part of the Hogwarts Library before, and was struck by the antique beauty of its rich mahogany flooring and by the air of vague history that hung about its walls. She supposed it was one of the oldest parts of the castle. Some of the books lining the shelves were probably studied by Hogwarts' earliest students, perhaps even by the founders themselves. The very thought thrilled her, and she leaned forward for a closer examination.

Some of the books looked terrifying, with horrifying and grizzly images on their covers. Others were simple, unassuming in appearance, reminding her painfully of Tom Riddle's diary. It would have come of no surprise to her to come across that book on the shelves in front of her, some of which were entirely devoted to the Dark Arts. She supposed Professor Snape would have felt right at home in the Restricted Section.

The books were arranged alphabetically by title, which she supposed would make her task somewhat easier. She moved along the shelving until she reached the section of books beginning with the letter N. Gently she drew her finger along the spines of the books, letting her eyes scan the titles. It didn't take her very long to come across the first book on necromancy, entitled, "_Necromancy, A History of Resurrection"_," but that didn't sound entirely helpful. She needed practical instructions, not a longwinded discussion. She moved on. The next few books also appeared useless.

She reached the end of the shelf and looked around to see where the section continued. The books beginning with the letter N resumed on the bottom shelf behind her, but she could hardly make out the titles with the shelf being so close to the dark flooring. Crouching down low, she moved as near as she could to the books. She had to angle her head to make out the print. "_Necromancy, Is it Ethical?"_ appeared unhelpful, as did, "_Necromancy in the Dark Ages."_

An unexpected breath of cold air on her neck made her stiffen suddenly. Afraid to look up, she stayed perfectly still, hoping it was just her imagination. Nothing happened. Relaxing slightly, she loosened the muscles in her shoulders and released the breath she'd been holding. For a moment, she had felt like someone had been standing right behind her, leaning down over her, breathing on her neck. She let her eyes close for a moment and just concentrated on breathing. This was getting old. For almost a month now she'd been having these odd fits of paranoia. But there was nothing there, she told herself. It was all in her head.

Ginny opened her eyes and continued her examination of the books. She wasn't going to look behind her. There was never anything there, so there was no point. She just had to focus on the job at hand, think of the look on Harry's face when she solved all his problems for him. Think of Harry…

There it was again. 

"Who's there?" Ginny whispered uncertainly. "This isn't funny."

The air around her suddenly became icy cold. Moving stiffly, both from fear and the chill, Ginny forced herself to stand up straight and turn around, and face the red-haired woman who was standing right behind her.

Lily Potter extended her hand, and said, "Oh, thank you. I thought you'd never see me. Please, if you care about Harry, I need your help…"

***

A/N: There'll be more soon, and finally some answers, I promise J Now please don't forget to review!

Pleiades 


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